True Story

Please

 

I took a nap.
Perhaps that was my first mistake.
I should have promised to give it back after I was done.

Devils danced underneath my eyelids
Dreaming me of nightmares and unconsecrated things.
I awaken, but my eyes will not open.
I awaken, but I’m captive of my own sleep.
Weighed down, fingertips and nerve endings will not respond.
I’m awake
Disguised as resting by the masquerade of sleepmares.
Speech is gone.  All I can do is mutter and mumble.
Panic sets in, the pounding of my heartbeat opens my eyes enough
For me to see a light.

After what seems like an eternity, I’m able to move and I roll off the couch
Collapsing onto the floor.
Terrified, I ask my aunt to say a prayer for me.

That night, I’m quite nervous to go back to sleep.
Perhaps, I should ask permission first?

 

 

[This condition is called Sleep Paralysis.  I wrote this poem a while back after a particularly scary episode.   Poem #25 of 30.  Image by Alyssa L. Miller via Flickr and a Creative Commons License.

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