My First Sleep Paralysis Experience!

I gain consciousness somewhere in the middle of a jokey conversation between what sounds like two or three other people. A voice I identify as Hannah’s says something incredulous about a guy getting his hair dyed purple twice. Trying to be funny, I say something along the lines of “…well maybe he got his hair dyed brown once and then purple the second time, so he got it dyed twice and it ended up purple, which is essentially the same thing…” They stop talking and laugh at me in a somewhat pitying manner, making me aware of my nonsensical rambling. “You’ve never talked about this by yourself before, have you?” asks Ivan’s voice.

My head reels. My stomach rises in a rush of adrenaline. I don’t know where I am. I feel intoxicated, my mind floating in strange directions as I fight for control. Have I been drugged? I realize that I’m on the verge of panic. I calm myself. I am among friends. I take stock of my surroundings as best I can – I’m lying on a bed, on my side, with a soft blur of light coming through closed lids. Someone is sitting directly in front of me – I feel their weight on the mattress and even see their shadow passing over my closed eyes as they move. One or two others are also in the room.

I throw together a sentence in my head, planning to ask them if I’m on anything. The way that they laughed at my confused response and my current groggy ineptitude seem to have no other logical explanation. I open my mouth to confirm this. I feel that it’s still closed. I try again. I realize with dull horror that I cannot summon the will to move my jaw. I feel winded, the same airless mute sensation you get from a solid punch to the stomach. My breath refuses to gather enough force to break my lips. Strange noises begin to reach me from the soft light of the outside world – a rolling, repetitive ambient sound somewhere between ocean waves and the mechanical whir of some vast echoing factory. An insectile buzz rises steadily from behind my head, screeching into my ear like a feedback loop from a bad PA system. As it approaches me, I can feel warm breath wash across my face. My fears multiply, expanding in new directions. Something is very wrong.

Again I struggle to calm myself and focus on remembering what has lead me here. This time I break through - It’s summertime. I am in my own bed, at home. I have just gone back to sleep after waking up early from an uneventful night’s rest. There is no way I am having a drug-related experience. This must be sleep paralysis. I have awoken in the middle of a dream, but the dream is continuing and my physical body remains frozen. The words “locked-in syndrome” float across my mind. The sensation of someone or something whispering behind my ear remains, an odd sound that is soft yet loud, someone screaming on a nearly-muted TV.

Calmer and curious now, I explore my motionless body. I plan to move my legs in tentative kicks, but don’t go through with it. The paralysis is actually less terrifying than I had expected. I don’t feel as if some alien force is resisting my attempts to move; rather it’s as if I myself cannot recall how to muster the will to do so. It’s still a frightening loss, akin to suddenly forgetting how to speak, but at least the cause feels internal and not external.

Dark shadow flutters in front of my eyes. I’ve finally managed to lift my eyelids, as if by accident. I chuckle at my predicament internally – I’m like an old man who has forgotten how to drive his car and is taken aback by the sudden motion of the windshield wipers as he fiddles with the controls. The soft light is nowhere to be seen, and I can no longer hear much of anything except perhaps the imagined echoes of that haunting mechanical-ocean sound. I remember to try wiggling my toes. It feels like it’s working. Suddenly my legs are activated, the teeth of some hidden gears have finally found purchase. I roll over in relief, freed from my brain’s misguided protective paralysis. I’d always wanted to experience sleep paralysis… well, there you go. I grab my laptop and begin to type.