Sometimes I wake up to spiders in my bed.
They cover every inch of my sheets, creating a quilt of hairy legs and beady eyes. I can feel them crawling underneath my duvet, traveling up my legs, over my torso and into my mouth. I stop breathing, praying they will stay still. Their little footsteps tickle the back of my throat.
When that doesn’t work, I start screaming. I kick my legs up, throwing my blanket on to the floor, but it doesn’t matter. The spiders are still there. The more I scream, the more they stay, clawing my skin. They won’t leave and they’re all over me and no one is helping and I can feel my lungs collapsing and…
They're gone.
I’ve had night terrors for about five years. Night terrors are not the same thing as sleep paralysis. My dad has sleep paralysis and it’s a whole different bag of worms — or spiders.
Like sleep paralysis, I see the imaginary in real life, typically while I am half awake. I’ve had a wide variety of visitors over the years. There was a black cat. It was very cute, except for when it tried to claw out my eyeballs. There was the man in the shadows. He stayed stationary and didn’t provide much entertainment. Not big on conversation. Still creepy, in a ‘weird guy staring at me’ sort of way. I even had a proper demon once. Like the total package with six eyeballs randomly placed on its amorphous body that leaked into the air like smog.
But unlike sleep paralysis, I am not a prisoner of my own body. I can fight, but with little success. I flail my limbs, wriggling on the bed and yell until my throat gets sore.
Having night terrors is okay when you’re at home. Your parents rush into your room and, once they see you are ok, they kiss you on the forehead and say goodnight.
Having night terrors is less okay when you live in dorms. Roommates don’t appreciate being woken up by screeching. So, I have learned to shut up when I have night terrors. See a creature? Close your eyes, don’t scream and take five deep breaths in and out.
I have a single room now, but I still practice self-control. I don’t want to freak out my neighbours.
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I just woke up and I can hardly see a thing. It must be late since the only light is coming from under the doorway. As my eyes dart around, I notice someone. They have no distinguishing features except for a snarled grin that extends from ear to ear. Standing above me, their heavy breathing brushes my face.
I close my eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out.
I can feel their breath getting closer. It’s humid, putrid, like an abandoned butcher shop.
Breathe in.
The condensation is dripping down my cheek onto the sheets.
Breathe out.
Their hand is on my wrist. Their nails are digging into my flesh.
Breathe in.
I think they’re saying something, but I will not listen.
Breathe out.
They’re not real.
Breathe in.
Their nails are puncturing my skin.
Breathe out.
I can feel pressure in my chest begging to escape.
Breathe in.
I’m biting my lip. I won’t scream. I squeeze my eyes until all I can see are purple dots.
Breathe out.
It’s not real. You can open your eyes now.
But if it’s not real, why is there blood dribbling down my fingers?
And if they’re not real, why are their nails still stuck in my wrist?