a monster sleeps on my chest

I used to not think about sleep.  Sleep was good.  Sleep was very peaceful.  Sleep was nice to me.  Then the thought of dreaming started to terrify me because of the possibility of nightmares.  I was scared that I'd do something awful in my dreams.  I am scared. Human capabilities to do bad things makes my blood run cold.  I try not to think that murderers are real, that people actually kill people.  I want to live in a world where all I knew was Eminem blasting through the car speakers, the uncomplicated love for my family, and how fireworks were my worst fear and I didn't like playing with dolls. That world is buried though, six feet underground like it never existed.    

I'm afraid that someday I'll dream a dream in where I'm a bad person.  It's ridiculous, they're just dreams.  But people say that dreams are your subconscious trying to tell you something.  I'm frightened that I will be a monster in my dreams.  The thought alone keeps me up some nights refusing to sleep.  But sleep always comes for you anyways.

One night, a demon sat on my chest and I couldn't breathe.  She reached for my neck to choke me and I couldn't move.  I couldn't scream.  It felt too real.  My room looked like my room.  I woke up and it wasn't real anymore.  I lay alone with just a fading image. I wanted to turn every light on in the house so there would be no darkness around me. It was too quiet and the moon and stars were too far away to comfort me. The sucky thing about sleep paralysis is waking up and then wondering what's real and then going back to sleep because you were never fully awake and as hard as you try you can't keep your eyes open so then it happens to you again and again throughout the night.

I'm lucky that the demon only came once.  But being paralyzed came over and over again for months after.  I didn't know there was such a thing as sleep paralysis until I looked up the visions on the internet.  And I mean, if it's on the internet it must be true. At least; I needed to give it a name so I wouldn't feel so overpowered.  It helped knowing that it was just that my brain had woken up to reality while my body hadn't. That explained why no matter how hard I strained and concentrated I couldn't lift even my pinky finger.  I learned with time that struggling only made it worse.  Struggling made the panic gain weight.  I stopped fighting and started holding onto hope that I would wake up soon.  But the sleep world is so disorienting it's hard to hold onto any thoughts without them slipping away like you never had them at all.  I forced myself to give in, give up.

Giving in and giving up terrifies me when I'm asleep.  But more so when I'm awake.