Sleep paralysis has always been a large part of my life. Even as a kid, I remember trying to describe to my parents that the nightmares I’d been having were all too real, and that figures had actually been showing up in my room. Like any parent dismissing their kid’s overactive imagination, they told me I was always safe no matter what I saw and got me a night light. That, however, made the illusions I would see in my helpless half asleep state even worse, as I could make out more of their terrifying features.
After some years of dealing with it, I began to realize I was dealing with one sleep paralysis demon that would take the form of anything my mind found particularly terrifying on a given day. One characteristic that defined it was distorted details and concepts to make them just unfamiliar enough to be terrifying, as if it couldn’t perfectly replicate its desired form. For example, if I watched a documentary about a serial killer before going to bed (we’ve all done it), it would take the form of a human being with a knife, but with eyes larger than normal and long grotesque fingers to push these visions into the realm of the uncanny. It knew exactly what to do to make me wake with a start every morning.
However, as I got older it began to run out of ideas. The things I once found scary growing up no longer terrified me, and I had been exposed to horrible things in life that had left me with a sense of emptiness. I no longer felt any emotion, happiness, sadness, and particularly fear. The latter really pissed the demon off, as night after night it took on new and horrible forms to try to draw out that same terrified look in my eyes it had savored for years before. But I simply had no emotion to give. I was dead inside, and blocking out the demon was just a small benefit of a horrible situation. Eventually, I think it gave up. It would take the form of a tall, blurry humanoid figure just standing in the corner of my room, once again with eyes and limbs slightly longer and wider than that of a man. It would simply stand there during my sleep paralysis episodes until I woke up again. A more empathetic person might’ve almost felt bad.
Life continued like this until I met Sara. I accidentally took the coffee she ordered instead of mine at a cafe, and what should’ve been a brief, awkward interaction turned into a first date. She was everything I wasn’t. Lively, bubbly and positive wouldn’t even begin to describe this woman. She brought the light and energy back to my life, and I began to experience the emotions that had been buried under the weight of my depression again. My demon took notice, and once again began attempts to draw out the more negative emotions. However, I now had a different kind of shield against it. I had never been happier with Sara, and with that I felt the courage to not be afraid of it anymore. That brought on its rage more so than I’d ever seen before. It went all out, making me believe someone had broken into my apartment or getting up directly in my face with the most hideous and disturbing forms you could imagine while I laid there paralyzed. But I didn’t care. This was the first time in years I had felt truly happy, and nothing could get in the way of that.
Oftentimes I’d stay up late texting with Sara, talking about all sorts of dumbshit. I would usually fall asleep before her, so I’d often wake up to texts from her from the night before. One of those nights we finally talked about her staying over for the first time. We were both really excited, but also sort of nervous. We agreed for her to just spend one night at mine tomorrow night. I fell asleep that night thinking about how amazing it’d be to fall asleep and wake up next to Sara. However, a few hours later I woke up to a familiar feeling: every limb so heavy that I was unable to move, slight tightness in my chest. Just another bout of sleep paralysis. I glanced up at whatever horrible visions my demon had prepared for me. Its slender and stretched frame stood at the end of my bed, motionless. I realized its large disproportional eyes weren’t set on me: they were on my phone. Although I couldn’t move my head, I could tell Sara was still texting me from the faint glow of the screen turning on and off. A sudden chill ran down my spine as it slowly turned its head to me while developing a sinister grin that almost seemed to run off its face. The idea of that thing even recognizing what those texts meant made my blood run cold. As soon as it seemed to start, that horrible vision ended and I woke up the next morning with a start. Did it understand why I wasn’t afraid of it anymore? The thought of Sara becoming the target of its terror made me pause at the idea of her spending the night. However, I quickly brushed it off. I was quickly falling in love with this woman, and no imaginary sleep monster was going to get in the way of that.
I’d never slept better the night she stayed over. Perfect blissful sleep, no sleep paralysis or horrible visions. Just pure peace. I should’ve known it was too good to be true.
Sara started texting me less. When we went on dates or I talked to her, she looked and sounded more tired than usual. She became less enthusiastic and outgoing, cancelling plans because she was simply too tired to go. I thought it was something I’d done. Maybe we moved too fast in having her stay over. Those thoughts alone began to throw me back into a depressive spiral, but there was no sleep paralysis to follow them. The demon seemed to be gone, completely absent. It was as if it’d packed up and left my life for good. It didn’t take me long to see where it’d gone. Sara completely broke off contact with me in the weeks following, and according to her sister fell into a deep depressive state. She talked about experiencing vivid nightmares when she fell asleep, with hallucinations seemingly tailored to exploit her every fear. When asked to describe some of them, a trend in each struck me: exaggerated features, long stretched out limbs, large wide eyes. I had dumped my burden on to her, and she was not equipped to handle it in the way I was.
The news of Sara taking her own life shattered me. She had apparently left a note, ranting about nightmares and visions of a sleep paralysis demon haunting her dreams. After that, it returned to me. Only now it had a new, favorite form to make every moment of sleep a waking nightmare.