My name's Chris. When I was once asked to pick three words to describe myself,
I wrote need more words, which got me into a great deal of trouble.
recur v. \ri-ˈkər\
I don't know why it happens.
I am asleep in bed in my apartment when I hear someone moving in the living room. I stir awake but I don't move. I don't want them to know I'm awake because they're a criminal and I have no way to defend myself. I hear them move into my bedroom. My eyes are closed. The footsteps thunder. They stop for a moment, must be deciding what to steal from me. I hear them move towards me. I have to do something. I try to move but I can't. My body won't wake up. I hear them startle. Some sign has given me away. A change in my breathing. They weren't expecting me to wake up. They start to run away. Footsteps like a deer's running into the woods. I try to call out or make any kind of noise but it only comes out as a groan. Even my vocal chords won't work. I wake up. I see no one. There is no sound but the gentle night wind.
These things happen when I am stressed out. They follow the same pattern each time: someone breaking into my apartment, coming into my bedroom. In most cases, it is someone I never see. Once, it was my sister holding a knife. They always mean me harm but there is no explanation why. Most times, they are robbing me. I can never move. I always try to, but my body can't. I force myself to wake up instead. Somehow I know it's a dream. I focus on my eyelids. If I can open them, it ends. Eventually I can make it happen. It hurts afterwards.
I don't know what to call these things. They don't feel like nightmares. There's very little plot and no characters at all. I can't call them night terrors, either. Those are when you can't remember anything that happened when you closed your eyes but wake up deathly afraid. And it isn't sleep paralysis; that's when you wake up but your body remains asleep and inert. It's all three of these things and none. It happens when I am stressed out, but I'm not now. Everything is rolling forward in my life like a long, even wave. I am riding on top. Everything this week has gone slower than I imagined it would. I can see each thing happen before it does.
I lie in bed. My body feels flooded with adrenaline. I turn on my phone and console myself with Twitter, the random noise created by people at 3 o'clock in the morning. Some people at parties still. Some people strung out on marathon video game sessions, hallucinating in pixels. Some people with insomnia.
I get up and walk down the hallway. I have to do this. The apartment is still locked. The blinds to my patio rustle in the wind. I left the door open.
I am asleep in bed in my apartment when I hear someone moving in the living room. I stir awake but I don't move. I don't want them to know I'm awake because they're a criminal and I have no way to defend myself. I hear them move into my bedroom. My eyes are closed. The footsteps thunder. They stop for a moment, must be deciding what to steal from me. I hear them move towards me. I have to do something. I try to move but I can't. My body won't wake up. I hear them startle. Some sign has given me away. A change in my breathing. They weren't expecting me to wake up. They start to run away. Footsteps like a deer's running into the woods. I try to call out or make any kind of noise but it only comes out as a groan. Even my vocal chords won't work. I wake up. I see no one. There is no sound but the gentle night wind.
These things happen when I am stressed out. They follow the same pattern each time: someone breaking into my apartment, coming into my bedroom. In most cases, it is someone I never see. Once, it was my sister holding a knife. They always mean me harm but there is no explanation why. Most times, they are robbing me. I can never move. I always try to, but my body can't. I force myself to wake up instead. Somehow I know it's a dream. I focus on my eyelids. If I can open them, it ends. Eventually I can make it happen. It hurts afterwards.
I don't know what to call these things. They don't feel like nightmares. There's very little plot and no characters at all. I can't call them night terrors, either. Those are when you can't remember anything that happened when you closed your eyes but wake up deathly afraid. And it isn't sleep paralysis; that's when you wake up but your body remains asleep and inert. It's all three of these things and none. It happens when I am stressed out, but I'm not now. Everything is rolling forward in my life like a long, even wave. I am riding on top. Everything this week has gone slower than I imagined it would. I can see each thing happen before it does.
I lie in bed. My body feels flooded with adrenaline. I turn on my phone and console myself with Twitter, the random noise created by people at 3 o'clock in the morning. Some people at parties still. Some people strung out on marathon video game sessions, hallucinating in pixels. Some people with insomnia.
I get up and walk down the hallway. I have to do this. The apartment is still locked. The blinds to my patio rustle in the wind. I left the door open.
