Night terrors....
Ugh.
Right???
If you haven't yet, take a moment to internet search "Night Terrors". This search results in a plethora of
information about "pavor nocturnus". I find it validating so
many of us are gripped by our lethal imaginations and evolutionary inability to
literally 'run away'.
I have a rampantly active imagination. I
hope you all do too. I know Life is interesting and fantastic just as it
is but! If you also add an over the top back story to every tree you happen to meet
-whoa, let me just tell you, now Life is Mind Blowing!
(PS it is 4:25am, not anywhere around three am
so this can lighthearted. I had this particular night terror dream a couple of months ago. I woke
up at 3:02am in such a regressively childlike state, I rudely woke up poor
Charlie for a badly needed cuddle. Thank goodness for cats.)
(PS.PS. If you decide to read this post through,
I would love to hear your two cents and/or your own one.)
Anyway. Here is my
reoccurring dream/ aka night terror.
The setting for each is always in a house reflective
of the real world one I live in at the time of the dream. This imaginary
house is devoid of furniture, wall hangings or color. There are no light
fixtures. The only illumination comes
from the windows where a vague wet grey light pulses in. The floors are always wooden slats that feel
soft under foot; like I am walking on rain softened earth.
My breath tastes stale and heavy in my
mouth, sliding down my throat and into my lungs like thin plain spaghetti. Sticky and un-buttered. The feeling of dread creeps around my
legs in a fog of sweaty suppressed shivers and I walk quietly, room to room;
again and again.
It took a while, until I was much older, to
realize what it was I am doing in this dream. Sometime in my teens, I realized
I am checking, and re-checking, each room to make sure it has not been
breached. Most of the time, my anxiety stays at the same unchanging, distressingly high levels for the duration of the dream; a weird flat line that
is exhausting but manageable.
It is only when security has failed, that there is
a sudden escalation of both terror and a contradictory determination. What is really an adrenaline kicker starter is
when I open my eyes to this dream and I know I have started the whole thing in
a full scale alarm.
Again, most of the time, the walls hold 'It'
securely outside. Perhaps my vigilance
keeps them strong. Perhaps the silence
of the house makes it less noticeable and vulnerable to attack. Whatever the reason, the house is usually
able to withstand the nasty imminent mold from contaminating the ghostly empty
space within.
Tonight, as I hung out with this amazing talking
mushroom the color of thundercloud about how to train my hair to hold a curl, I
heard a noise behind us… Turning to
look, I accidentally shifted my dream, parting the sunlight aside like a curtain
and I stepped into The House.
My heart slams into my ribs with a force that
knocks the wind from me. Gratefully,
this is a dream. Breathing, while nice
and settling, is not necessary.
“It” is inside.
The helpful floors and my long skirts silence my quick steps as I hunt
for the source of the intrusion, room to room, again and again.
I find “It” in the front room, by the back wall,
curled in the corner, rocking. Matted
floor length black hair drapes across the slight female form and feeling me approach, “It”
rises to challenge my rebuke; uncoiling in a joint less motion of malice and
decay. The hands are spidery and the veins
are black; the skin tightens and loosens in a fluid motion that reminds me of a
marsh mellow about to be exploded in a microwave.
What is the most paralyzing aspect of “It”?
There is no face. There are no features, no eyes, no mouth. Instead there is only a muted white wash out
where there should be some form of identity but there just isn’t. The only sounds I have heard is a rusted intake
of breath, a wail of despair and a laugh of hatred. I do not know where I have conjured up this
figure but I do know to avoid horror movies.
I really really really do not need more material for this.
When I was small, I would run and many times, manage to get out of the house. Sometimes, the trees right outside would bend their branches down to
lift me up and away from being followed.
After all, as we all know, trees are incorruptible to darkness and full
of light.
Remember, the house is reflective of whatever
house I lived in at the time of the dream. Sometimes I lived in places where there were
very few trees that had the strength or height to help me.
Then there were the worst versions of this night terror. In these ones, I would open my eyes to the dream and find I was lying as if I were in bed (except there is no furniture, so I am not sure how that works).
I would know instantly that “It” was already in the house and had rotted the walls. "It" had grown like fungus and everything was in ruin.
This variety of my lovely well known night terror mostly happened when I was little. The first few times I actually managed to wake up screaming but after I while I started to think about it and ask 'What is a shadow most afraid of? Always?'
Light.
I discovered that when I would find myself “in bed”,
locked in suffocating fear, if I called to
my friends; the Wind Woman, the trees, the moon and unseen sun; to the earth, water,
fire and my dream guide, they would always come, bringing their light.
I called them my angels, saying “Eight angels in
the night, Eight angels to chase away fright, two at foot, two at head, one
above, one below and two on either sides, surround me with your light!” And they would come, every time, unrolling
their light like canvas to the friend on the other side. They would hold the wide ribbons of light
between them and push back the darkness.
***Okay -pause. Seriously! IMAGINATION is fantastic
right???***
As I grew older, I became angry; this was my house, this was my space. Strange and empty perhaps, the floors were my friends and the eerie light was from the over sized moon. What business did "It" have to be intruding on my space?
On the rare occasion that I must call out to my friends, they now ‘throw’
their light into me. Now, when I find “It”
I say nothing, I hold my arms open and the light bursts from my chest, my
face and hands - the radiance blinds me and pummels “It” through the walls and out away into
the sky.
Tonight, as I found "It" in the corner of the front room, as it slithered to me, I didn't hesitate. I stepped forward, using the light breaking from my hands, I threw "It" out of the window and wrapped the house with the bands of light to prevent reentry. Then I wandered off to hang out with Char - interesting side note, Charlie is always with me in the dream; he has been since the first night in my apartment.
Even though, or maybe because, this night terror
still comes by a few times a year, I find it an important reminder. This night terror is symbolic of how I see my
friends and family in the real world.
How I hope they see me. That, when faceless, nameless terror shows up on
my real world doorstep, I know I can call out to my angels and asking for their strengths and
experiences, to help me cast out unwelcome shadows.
There are few forces as powerful and mind
blowing as the positive energy we can receive, and give, in our beloved
relationships.
