She lay down to go to sleep for the night, mulling over the day's accomplishments and considering unfinished tasks pushed to tomorrow's to do list. It happened right away, or at least it felt like it. Her head hit the pillow, her eyes just closed and she was there, in that place. "Oh no, not this. Not tonight" she thought as she braced herself for what would likely be an unpredictable and exhausting night. "Maybe if I can catch it early, then walk around or watch TV for a while, it won't be so bad. Ok, here I go. Should I relax a minute or just start fighting? I'm so tired. I don't feel like fighting" She knows that waiting almost always makes it harder to get out, it ends up being more work and more exhausting, "If I'm not careful, I'll go deeper and it'll hurt more" The hurt is a sort of throbbing, achy all over feeling.
"If I can get a finger or some toes moving, then maybe I can catch it now" Although it is very painful and takes a tremendous amount of effort, the slight movement of one digit is a good place to start. She has come to find that trying to move a digit, try not to go deeper and dealing with what feels like asphyxiation need to be carefully juggled. If she focuses too much on the breathing, then she may go deeper, if she focuses solely on her moving a finger, then her breathing seems to get worse. Too deep a breath can be bad. A shallow breath, then some fight to move, then a brief pause to "rest" has been the best formula. She has no idea how long it lasts. It likely feels much longer than it actually is. "Am I dying? It feels like it this time" She has been through this many times. In her head, she knows she's not dying, but it always feels like she is. She manages to move part of her right hand, "There, I can do this. Just keep trying to move, with only a quick breath in between. Try not to rest. You may lose it. Fight. You're almost there" Philippians 4:13 runs through her mind, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Finally, she can move her hand and with immense mental effort, she breaks free.
This is one example of me enduring an episode of sleep paralysis. My next post will show that this is a milder example of my experiences with sleep paralysis, something which at one time in my life, occurred every night, often multiple times. You see, when I finally break free, the distress in not over. Despite how horrible these occurrences are and the past experience of knowing that if I try to go back to sleep right away, it will immediately and automatically reoccur, the urge to do so is stronger than words can convey. I am compelled to go right back to sleep. These episodes leave me drained, as if every bone muscle cell in my body has been sapped of something essential to go on. Every part of my body feels depleted of something. It's as if some of the life in me has been removed. It is very difficult to explain.
There is so much more to sleep paralysis than what has been described above. Along with the sensation of difficulty breathing, there is a feeling of pressure, sometimes milder and other times more intense, on my chest. The episodes almost always happen when I am lying on my back, which gives the sense that breathing and breaking free are even more difficult. Also involved is an unpleasant tingly feeling in my body, especially my head and chest. I can compare it a little with the hyper-sensitive "pins and needles" feeling when a body limb falls asleep. Then, there is the nagging ringing "rushing wind" sensation in my ears. This is more of a feeling than a sound. For others, the paralysis can feel like an out of body experience. I have only experienced that on a few occasions.
The line between real and unreal is virtually non-existent during an episode of sleep paralysis. Reality becomes something a sufferer determines through repeated experience and, at least for me, investigating through "trial and error". For instance, on many paralysis occasions, I had the impression that my eyes were open, but I believed they probably actually were not. So, I tested it myself one time to determine it. I strongly recall one particular time when I had my mom's handmade knitted afghan over me. When I sensed my eyes were open, I looked at and memorized the pattern, folds and layout of the afghan. When I finally managed to awake myself, I observed the afghan to be exactly as I had observed it to be while immobile. It seems likely that my eyes open and I see while paralyzed, although not knowing for certain, it also crossed my mind that perhaps my subconscious mind could "know" small details that I am not aware. The opposite end of the spectrum with regard to the question of reality is that of false awakenings. The belief that I have awoken, broken free and am up and about, only to discover that I am still paralyzed lying on my bed. Either way, it all is kind of fascinating in a way. It would be even more so if I didn't have to endure it.
Remember from my last post that narcolepsy is a disorder of sleep/wake cycle confusion. So, people with narcolepsy can go into REM sleep immediately when they become drowsy and close their eyes. Yes, that's right, I wrote IMMEDIATELY! As many people are aware, normal sleep goes through a series of stages, with roughly similar time frames of each stage. The first stage of REM sleep usually occurs about 90 minutes into sleep. At this deeper level, the most restful and rejuvenating sleep occurs. Our body, when it functions properly, is designed to operate in ways which support solid, deep refreshing sleep. One way to ensure this is to prevent our bodies for moving. Temporary but complete paralysis keeps our sleeping bodies from acting out our dreams and at the very least, from repeatedly falling out of our beds. Simultaneously, our breathing changes to a less conscious type of breathing, again, to support a sufficiently deep enough sleep. Now, imagine if you will, this process of paralysis and unconscious breathing taking place the moment you begin to enter sleep. That explains the distressing sensations of narcoleptic sleep paralysis.
It does not, however, explain the intense fear I have every single time, the fear that someone will find me in this state, try to wake me and not be able to. I won't be able to tell them I am trying to wake up and can't. Some paralysis sufferers have reported that sleep partners have successfully woken them by simply touching them. I have never experienced this and when I encounter an episode, I am utterly convinced that another person will NOT be able to help me. The alternative is some unknown catastrophic fate I am desperate to avoid. The ultimate fear is that I will not be able to awaken and that my loved one will think I am dead.
For me, sleep paralysis, with all of it's varied and confusing aspects, can occur without it's common counterpart, hypnogogic (just prior to falling asleep) and hypnopompic (just prior to awakening) hallucinations. Although the paralysis can occur without these hallucinations, the hallucinations, at least for me, always occur with the paralysis. In REM sleep, we not only become paralyzed and breath automatically, we also begin to dream. Technically still awake, these dreams are actually very lucid hallucinations. Why they are terrifying experiences and not just benign figments has peaked the interest of psychologists and theologians alike for centuries. These vivid and terrifying hallucinations add fright to the already existing panic. Personally experienced primarily upon falling asleep, I still have yet to share the most tormenting aspect of immediate onset REM sleep.
