FEATURE: I have a phobia!

Phobias: Side effects may include lack of sleep, and constant torture. By Ray A-J.

“SEVEN o’clock!” bellows the alarm clock.

Night falls. All around, the ghostly voice of the wind circles my ears, tumbling from the open window. Slowly the darkness tiptoes into my surroundings, kissing anything in view.

“Argh!” goes the sound of my own voice, as I wrestle with the growing weight of tiredness – a yawn beginning to fall from my face. I can’t. I won’t. I mustn’t. “Don’t,” goes the desperate shriek of my whirling conscious, willing me not to do it. Not to fall asleep. I try to hold my eyes open, but it’s already too late.

Heavy and drooping, my eyelids begin the decent to meet my cheeks. Room becomes black. Eyes begin to flicker. Head falls back. And before I could do anything to stop it… I was stuck.

Years ago, when I was a child of just seven, I met a terrible monster. Only two years after I first found my phobia that carried on to plague me until just recently, my fear of the actor Timothy Spawl and his treacherous rodent character Peter Pettigrew from the Harry Potter series, I was inflicted with yet another powerful demon. I was overcome by sleep paralysis. And of course, this didn’t mix well with my fear of the rat faced character.

Sleep paralysis is a sleep disorder. It can affect anyone, and at least once in your life you’ll experience it. That’s what Google says, anyway. But what it doesn’t tell you is how petrifying it literally is.

I remember feeling an overwhelming sensation of tiredness. And… choking. Suddenly, I couldn’t breath. My chest became clogged with the weight of what felt like some figure sitting on my lungs. Heart started pounding three times as fast, desperate to pump some air to my body. A thick chunk of pressure pushed down on my throat until I ran entirely out of oxygen.

“I’ve got to get out of this, somehow. I don’t want to die,” my head screamed. So I tried to move, tried to twitch my arms, my hands, anything I could. But nothing worked. They were entwined with the mattress underneath me, like vines to a tree. My eyelids were still heavy, holding tightly shut.

“Oh crap,” I thought. “Oh no, what if… what if I can’t open my eyes?” And with that one terrible thought, fear shot my whole body consuming every fibre of my brain.

“What if I’m stuck like this forever, what if I can never open my eyes or move again? No-one would know I’m still here… still awake… still alive…”

The air began to seep from my chest quicker, until it was like my lungs had deflated.
“I’ve got to move, got to shake myself out of this.”

The pitch black that stared back at my closed eyes was teasing my brain almost. I had nothing to distract me from the feeling of paralysis, just the darkness to remind me that I couldn’t open my eyes.

Everybody sees something different when they are experiencing sleep paralysis. Some see hallucinations, some see figures flash about the room. Some are unlucky enough to have their eyes fully open, seeing demons. But for me, the darkness left enough room for my imagination to take over.

Suddenly, the empty blackness faded away, and in its place a new shadowy figure emerged. Sharp features, and grotesque splintered teeth shot out from the once bleak background. Closer and closer, the face edged towards me, each time the foggy cloud that shrouded it melted away a little more. Until…

“Ahh!” I tried to scream, desperate for help, but all that came out was silence. There was nothing I could do, Peter Pettigrew was there inches away. I could feel him breathing, every puff of air touching my face, torturing me with the breath I couldn’t find for myself.

“It’s too much, I have to run, I have to get away,” my mind shrieked, consumed by the panic of never moving again. I tried to twitch again, just a hand or a finger. I had to jump my way out of this.

“Come on, come on!” I silently screamed, urging my hands to move. Without warning, the face of the monster lunged at me, my head spun in fright, breath returned, and…

“Did my hand just twitch?” He was getting closer, closer, closer, about to grab me. Bang, went the sound of the real world around me, my hand twitched, arms shook, and before I knew it I was sitting upright in a pool of dripping sweat, panting wildly. I was awake. And I was free.

For days after, I was tortured with flashbacks of that night. As the clock ticked and my bedtime neared, the panic built up. I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t want to incase the rat faced creature came back, or worse, I wouldn’t wake-up.

“I tried to move, tried to twitch my arms, my hands, anything I could. But nothing worked. They were entwined with the mattress underneath me, like vine to a tree”.