Sleep Paralysis - first draft
   Being unable to protect those closest to us is a great fear that many people have. A sense of helplessness and the dread of being completely unable to help someone you love when they are in danger is possibly the strongest and worse of all human experiences, and one which I am enveloped in at the moment. Lying in bed, unable to move as I can only gaze out of my doorway and see a dark figure ascend up a staircase perpendicular to the hallway of which both my daughterâs bedroom, and mine are connected. âItâs just sleep paralysisâ I repeat to myself in my head to try and put myself at ease, knowing that all is well. A rather unpleasant experience it is, to be trapped inside of your body, awake and conscious, lacking only the sense of sobriety that comes from the waking hours of day time. As I lay fully awake, though my mind continues to conjure up grand hallucinations and visions as if I was still in a dream. It isnât an experience that is foreign to me, as these episodes are something I have experienced in the past. Iâm not sure how long I have been awake or lying here, the transition from my state of unconsciousness to this semi-lucid awakened state is never quite clear to me. While trying to orientate myself to the situation my heart drops at the sound of my childâs scream, crying out to me in what can be described only as sheer horror. The sound which any compassionate parent dreads more than anything, and a situation which they would be more terrified of than an attempt on their own life, should they find themselves in it. To lay restricted by your own body, unwillingly immobile, and unable to help their child who cries out for help from those who they trust the most in the world, who they rely on, and who is not coming to their aid.
   âItâs just sleep paralysisâ I frantically repeat in my head, screaming it at myself in my own mind so loudly it almost deafens me. Screaming it into my head trying to drown out the cries of my child who I leave helpless as I lay there, my mind conjuring up the most horrific possibilities of the occurrence in the room just feet away from me. Trying with every ounce of strength I can force out of myself to move but one muscle in my body, to lift one finger out of my restraints without success. âNo, stop. Daddyâ is cried out again as the feelings of utter helplessness, fury, and desperation wash over me like the ocean onto a beach. I cannot move, I cannot get up, I cannot help her, I can do nothing but lie and listen to her cries for help. With one more great exertion of strength I force my head up as if it weighed nothing, and continue to strain myself onto my feet, sweating from physical exhaustion and breathing heavily, though with a feeling of weightlessness once upright. I peer around the room, taking notice that the clock hasnât moved since first opening my eyes. Looking down I am struck with shock and confusion to see what I know to be my body lying in bed. âitâs sleep paralysisâ I keep telling myself, trying to calm my nerves, though Iâve never had hallucinations of leaving my own body in the past, I know that once I truly awaken, my daughter and I will be safe, with any threat to us leaving with my dreams.
   My inner monologue was quickly shattered by a series of shrieks and sobs which echoed through my head resonating in me as if they were but a foot away. Should I awaken from what can only be called a personal construction of hell, I shall never be able to forget the memories being burned into my mind from my time spent here. Seemingly freed I turn and rush to the hallway crying out in my head that Iâm experiencing sleep paralysis and nothing more. Turning the corner into her room I come to see what can only be described as a large shadow. A figure which seems to be made of fog, a fog so perfectly black it strains the eyes, as if no light could pass through it. The figure, which held no absolute form, remains in place over my daughterâs bed, unphased by my presence.
   Before I can continue forward I am stopped by the most horrific sight my mind could construct within itself, my daughters bed, sheets adorned with cartoon characters now stained with blood leading up to her soft face streaked with tears and blood soaked brunette hair stuck against her cheeks. Her apparitionâs head turns almost making direct eye contact with me, before calling out for help once more. She looks back at the figure softly saying âIâm sorry, please, stop, Iâm sorryâ repeating the phrase with heart breaking sobs. I lunge towards the dark figure with animalistic rage, crying out in absolute fury. Making contact with the dark cloud, I pass directly through it as seamlessly as empty space. Covered in sweat and hyperventilating, I lift my head to see the clock on her wall has jumped twenty minutes ahead from when time seemingly stood still. Realizing I have gained complete control of my faculties once more, I sigh deeply in relief. Turning, I notice that not only am I out of bed, but that I stand over my child, my hands stained with her blood.
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