This blog has been a series of reviews, top 5 lists and think pieces about different parts of pop culture. This is going to the first I have written anything even remotely biographical, which is odd really as I do like talking about myself. Anyway, watching Rodney Ascher’s documentary ‘The Nightmare’ it brought back some memories, that I had not thought about for a long while, of my sleep paralysis experiences.
The experiences break into two groups, both during my time at University of Leicester (Sept 2001 – May 2003). In my second year I moved into a student house, in Evington, on the Evington road, just up from the Spar. I managed to get the attic room, and all had a good time. The house was an old three-story terrace house, with a basement. We didn’t go in the basement much after the first week. We went done there and it was as creepy as hell, so we left the door covered by a hanging.
In my room I had a double bed with the head of the bed against the wall, facing a raised window. You had to climb on a chair to look out of it properly. The room was populated by the usual student stuff, a small desk, a crappy wardrobe and walls adorned with posters. It was a great house and room, shared with some good friends.
I don’t remember having sleep problems before University or often that year, just these few experiences. The first was a typical experience, waking from sleep, not able to move and a sense that someone else was in the room with me. My response was just as usual, trying to move and turnover with little success. The presence was just that, a presence. I didn’t see anything or have any sense of anything interacting me, it was just there. I assume I went back to sleep.
This shook me but didn’t last long, too much fun being a student, however this was soon followed by a more intense second experience. I came back from a lecture and sat on the end of my bed, lying back I fell asleep. I was ‘woken’ by a noise in my room, and once again I couldn’t move. It was getting dark outside but was still light enough to see parts of the room. So, I was able to see just beyond the bed, and in the shadows in the far corner was a shape. It was hidden in shadow but looked like a woman crouched down. I tried to rationalise that it was a pile of clothes or something else I had left in the corner. That was until it stood up.
At that moment my heart could have burst out my chest. It didn’t move towards me though just stood there in the corner. I remember thing about it and telling myself this must be a dream, all I need to do is close my eyes and relax and I’ll pass into my next dream. So I closed my eyes and I woke up in room able to move, but in full darkness. It was several hours since I had retuned from my lecture. I jumped up and put the light on. There wasn’t anything in the corner of the room. I once again convinced myself it was a dream.
I had one last experience in that house. The evening hadn’t been anything special and I went to bed as normal. I was awoken in the middle of the night and it was pitch black. My experience was similar to what had happened previously but this time lying in the bed properly and on my side, I was able to see straight into the corner and the figure was there again, crouched down. I didn’t give it a chance to stand up, I knew I could just drift back into sleep and wake up, which I did. Or at least I thought I did. I woke up in the dark and went to open my bedroom door, which opened on to a very small landing and staircase to the first floor. As I stepped over the threshold of the room on to the landing a female figure with her long hair in a shagging mess came charging up the stairs at me and pushed me back. I re-awoke in my bed and got the nearest light on. I was fucking terrified. To such an extent that I went and got one of my house mates up and told them what had happened. I spent the next few nights at a friend’s house. When I went back nothing else happened. The rest of the year was uneventful.
The following year I moved, with the same house mates, round the corner to Evington Park Rd, once again I managed to get the attic room. I was just lucky I guess. This room was smaller but had a window I could look out of and a small fireplace, which I thought was cool. In this room my bed was tucked into a corner and so I often slept with my face towards the wall.
The events at this house happened over a four-night period and just stopped and was less intense than previous. The first night I woke up facing the wall and could not move. This time I panicked. Mainly because, not only could I not move I couldn’t see anything in the room. I tried so hard to roll over but couldn’t. while I couldn’t see anything, I was convinced something was in the room with me. I was sure I could hear the slight creaking of floorboards. I was scared but once again went back to sleep and woke up able to move. I thought I had this thing licked.
The next two nights were very similar but this time I woke feeling sick. Like I was already full of adrenaline or something like that. The physical sinking in feeling in your stomach, probably the only time in my life I could truly say I felt dread. I managed to go back to sleep but it was harder each night and the dread got deeper, but it eventually worked.
The fourth night I was determined to sleep facing out into the room. So, I moved some clothes and pillows down the side. I remember feeling stupid doing it but did it anyway. That last night I woke up and I was lying on my back. The first thing I remember was that left arm was numb, not too odd, it happens when I sleep in certain positions, but it didn’t help my panic. This escalated when I looked into the room and the darkness was incredibly dense. I had the usual sense of a presence but there wasn’t a figure just an intense darkness. I couldn’t see the far wall, which I had been able to in the past. I lay there staring into the black, trying to see something, anything but seeing nothing. I don’t remember falling asleep that night just waking up in the morning and the room being full of light as it should be.
That was my last experience, almost 20 years ago. I don’t pretend to have a full explanation for any of it. It was mostly likely all a figment of my mind and the stress of uni work at the time but there is always a part of me that isn’t sure.
Writing this now, I feel a bit sick. I haven’t thought about this for so long, yet I can picture that room and now the wall I couldn’t see. I’m not looking forward to going to bed tonight. It sounds, and feels, childish to be fearful after writing this. It’s funny how these things affect us. Regardless, I have written it now and put it out there.
If you have had any similar experiences or any thoughts on what I have written, leave a comment or contact me through social media or this website.