Night Terrors

The electricity bill at my house growing up must have been quite a lot, because I rarely slept with the lights off. Lights out meant my dolls would come alive and plot my demise with my beanie babies. Lights out meant that the ghost in my bathtub would wander free. Lights out meant that the demons in my closet would leak sulfur out underneath the door and choke me before coming out to tear me apart.

Lights out meant terror. So I slept with at least one light on, always.

Usually it was the light at the entrance of my room. When you entered my bedchambers, immediately on the right was my bathroom. I hardly used that bathroom because I knew that Bloody Mary awaited me in the mirror and the dead woman from the shining was napping in the bathtub. Plus, a light was always constantly out, so I would use my parents’ bathroom at the other end of the top floor instead. I showered in there, got dressed in there, brushed my teeth in there. Anything to avoid the dead, murderous creatures in my bathroom.

English: Wall Mounted Cosmetic Mirror Deutsch:...

Where you see your hair, I see a murderous girl with a flair for the dramatic. Such is life.

Immediately to the right upon entering my room was the door to my closet. I had a large, walk-in closet that my brothers and I would play lava-monster in: one of us would cover ourselves in a blanket and try to drag other people under the blanket. It was wonderful, but I wouldn’t go in my closet unless everyone who was playing was in my room. I needed witnesses.

So I would leave the entrance light on, knowing that the demons in either adjacent room could not enter the main bedroom without first passing through the light. Upon hitting the light, they would die. So I was safe, until that light went out. Then I would just sleep on the floor in my parents room, sometimes for weeks at a time. As a fourteen year old girl. Yes, you read that right.

I’ve always suffered from extremely vivid nightmares, creations so masochistic and violent that it makes me worry about my subconscious. When I started treatment, my daily anxiety mellowed out immensely, but the nightmares remained.

Last Saturday night, I dreamed about my brothers, my father, and my ex-sig fig from the Blood Clot Era. In the dream was lots of molestation, violence, murder, and ghosts. I woke up crying. I do that a lot.

Crying child

There’s nothing like the sweet, sweet feeling of waking up with tears running down your face.

Dispelling of the psychic pain of night terrors takes at least a week. I have to shake off the sense of foreboding that follows me every where I go. I have to remind myself that reality has nothing to do with where my subconscious attacks me. I have to force myself to accept my anxiety dreams so that I don’t have to live in constant anxiety.

Because of my semi-frequent night terrors, I have become great friends with dream dictionaries and writing them down. I like to try and interpret why my brain is so fucked up sometimes. Dreaming about being molested? It’s a common PTSD symptom of people who have been molested, so, thanks, history for that one. It also suggests I am being taken advantage of, which only fits one character that appeared in the dream. Dreaming of witnessing a murder? That indicates deep-seeded anger towards something, and an aspect of the relationship that you want to destroy. That’s pretty accurate about all the characters, at least in part. Ghosts of live relatives and loved ones? They are no longer in reach, and you are in danger from them. Hmm, for some people, that works perfectly.

Last night, I dreamed about being chased by various flying, stinging insects. And no, I’m not talking about Tea-Party Republicans. But I had to hide from bees, wasps, and hornets. The bees I stood with like Galadriel when she rejects the Ring: I let them swarm around me, as I knew they wouldn’t harm me.  Bees symbolize luck, wealth, and creativity. It’s great that they were sent to protect me, and they died fighting for me. Which is a fucked up metaphor. The wasps and hornets? They represent anger towards me, and killing them symbolized my strength. But they overcame and over powered me and most of my bees. I was left with a few dying bees, my dress tattered, curled up in the fetal position under a piece of a barrel in a desert.

What the fuck is that about.

bumblebee

It’s probably about how I’m no longer angry, and how I want to throw up honey all over the place. That sounds about right.

Categories:

Humor, Writing

28 Comments

Whit,
You have a clown by your side, no one would dare fuck with you in Dreamland.

When I was young, I caught a glimpse of the Grady Twins at the movies, when I had to take a leak and stopped on my way to the bathroom to peek through the door where The Shining was playing. For a few weeks, I was told, I slept with the sheets over my head, until I finally fell asleep out of exhaustion. True story.
Le Clown

My friend used to be plagued by night terrors – she would rip down posters, move furniture (she’s 110 lbs wet – so she would develop a lot of strength from terror), scream, choke people, run around etc. It scared the bejebus out of me when we were spending the night together (in high school – mind out of the gutter). She’s since stopped having them after a lot of intense work (therapy, meditation, etc) so at least there’s hope for them subsiding.

I don’t blame you for peeing at Eric’s comments… and good luck with working through your night terrors. They suck.

I don’t need the lights left on these days but the wardrobe doors have to be shut or the monsters will get out. I feel your pain. Night terrors are the worst, the ones when your eyes and brain are awake but your body isn’t….aaaargh

I wish I could remember my dreams. I very rarely do. Your brain is trying to sort things out and working a little overtime for you. It’s a great idea to write them down. I have some ghostly things happen in my house and they keep me up all night! Luckily, it doesn’t happen too often.

I always remember my dreams, and they are always so vivid that I never need to write them down. I only write them down if I think they’d make a good fiction piece.

I’ve lived in a few haunted houses since the house I included in this post. Funnily enough, that house wasn’t haunted. It just had bad energy from all of us pouring our feelings into it.

I have been having similar weird nightmares lately. the last one was a bee flying in to my mouth and stinging me (I’m allergic) and in the same dream i had to be the one to identify my ex-boyfriends dead body because his family lived far away. I was in a ball of hysterics in my dream and it was awful. Ugh, dreams like that really suck.

Funnily enough, I read the book in like 8th grade and I didn’t find it nearly as scary as the movie. Granted, I watched the unrated version of the movie when I was 3. My parents didn’t know I was watching. Scarred. For. LIFE.

I suggest you do try writing down the major plot sequence of your dreams. You may think you remember them all, but there is probably more that you don’t. The reason for this is so that you can graduate to “lucid dreams”. The key is that when you are having a dream if you realize it is a dream then you can control it. I think I did this a couple of times many years ago. You can have lots of fun – kick those molesters where it hurts; chop off their arms and legs – whatever you want, because when you know it is a dream, you are in control.
And, ((((Whitney)))).

Very wild!
You have an advantage over most people then. Perhaps you can start picking up signals in your bad dreams that will make them lucid – i.e., noticing that such and such cannot be real, therefore it is a dream, and therefore you can take control. Good luck!

My friend in grade school had night terrors once when she was at a sleepover at my house. I just remember her running up and down the stairs screaming about our other friend who was on the couch being murdered. It’s hard to forget some memories.

Dark rooms, corridors and hallways are the proof to how creative I can get. They don’t even have to be dark; a silent hallway with dim lights are enough to ignite the creativity in me 😀

I was once in terror of a stationary wheelie bin. In terror. Yup, we are fascinatingly weird creatures. But my worst experience of night terrors wasn’t having them, it was being outside of them. My youngest son had night terrors from which he could not be wakened. All my attempts to soothe were merely producing further terror. To see the eyes of one of the persons you most love with your entirety reflect only horror is truly one of the most horrible encounters. I was the monster in his eyes. Still haunts me.

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