Sleep Terrors

While growing up, I suffered from Sleep Terrors. The dreams would be every child's worst nightmare and they always were on repeat the moment I would drift off.

The one from my childhood seems so innocent compared to the one's that come along now.

The childhood terror always starts with my school bag. It's just a regular school bag colored purple with floral patterns invading the top half. There is nothing in this bag that could possibly terrify anyone and yet, my mind ran wild with the idea of what it could stick in there every night.

I am walking home, when I hear a voice coming from the school bag. It's a faint whisper that tells me over and over about how it is going to take my family away from me. The voice is pure evil and every word it speaks sends me spiraling farther into pure fear.

As I reach home and begin to take the bag off my shoulders, an arm, burnt and covered in barely coagulated blood, reaches out to grab me. I quickly throw the bag into the closet and lock it there.

Later my mother goes to the closet to retrieve her coat as she is about to go outside. I beg and plead for them not to go into the closet. I tell them over and over about the thing in my school bag and how it wants to take everything away from me. My mother tries to calm me down by telling me she won't open the closet, but she lies.

As soon as she opens the door, the arms come out and consume her. She is screaming and crying as I run to pull her from my school bag. Being only seven years old, I am not much of help. She is being covered in the blood and skin remnants of this thing. I begin to cry for help and in my state of sleep; I feel every bit of heartbreak as if it were really happening right in front of me.

My step dad comes out of the bedroom to help but this being is much stronger than any human. He pushes me out of the way and I watch as their bodies are crunched up and swallowed into my bag. I don't what to do.

Telling my childhood best friend and her parents seemed like the only logical thing I could come up with. Their home is not far from our apartment. After hearing the story, the parents just laugh at my overwhelmingly creative imagination, but my friend listens and takes her parent's home phone to call the police.

When the police arrive, I try to tell them about my parents, but this demon has control over parts of me. My voice becomes muted. The cops are unable to hear or make out any word escaping my tear coated lips. They leave.

I go home to find the closet open. It had figured out how to get out of it's not so secure cell I tried to trap it in. The being grabs me head first and thrusts my body into the darkness of my school bag.

I wake up screaming.

During this terror, and every time it occurred, I would wake up outside of our home. We lived on a busy street close to an intersection that led to a highway. It was common to find myself, in the yard, garage, and even more terrifying, the middle of our busy street in the middle of the night.

Waking up in random places scared never really seemed so innocent compared to what this has turned into, though.

As I aged, the terrors just got worse. It was like my subconscious was having the time of its life terrorizing me and pushing my body to do whatever it willed. Other girls stopped inviting me to sleepovers because they were terrified of the actions I would exhibit while totally unconscious and per usual, my parents would just brush off the fact that there may be something wrong with me.

Not only was I getting up and walking out of homes constantly, but I had also started talking, opening my eyes, becoming more destructive to myself and others. People would tell me what I did and/or said, and for the life of me, I couldn't recollect any of it. In my conscious state, it never happened.

There were always non reoccurring terrors that came in between those that did that are still as vivid in my memory as all the others. The terrors always seem to burn into my brain as a permanent reminder that something is not right with me.

My actions didn't really begin to subside much though until my childhood friend took his own life five years ago.

His family was always so welcoming. They did everything they could to give me a better childhood. At one point, they offered to let me live with them due to my mom's alcohol addiction that always sent her anger and resentment spiraling towards me in numerous variations. He and his family cradled me in my times of hurt.

Now, I know what you may be thinking, and trust me, I have thought the same thing, but whatever consumes me at night is not my mother's doing. I know something happened to me but for the life of me, I don't have that memory. It's locked away and has only come to retaliate when I am not conscious of my actions. It's as if my body is leading another role without me.

For the sake of his privacy, we will call my friend Bryce. After his death, my terrors came on tenfold, every dream shaking me awake and leaving me to fall apart over and over.

Finally, Bryce started to show up in my terrors. Each time, he would show up at the end as I was falling apart and cradle me until I woke up. He would keep me from getting up and running into the street or doing things that would scare or hurt others. His arms still felt present as I would wake up in tears. It was as if he was in the room the whole time and knew the perfect time to jump in and save me from my own creation of hell.

Five and a half years have gone by since I have seen in his face while awake and since I have refused to see the stone that his parents placed on his grave site. It's a fear that if I were to see his stone, that my subconscious would know that he could no longer save me and that it would become something even more unimaginable than it already has.

His memory is fading though and that is scaring me even more.

As I type this now, I am sitting in bed, awake and terrified. This dream has been so much worse than all the others. Bryce was not there to save me this time.

It started out as a normal dream and increased in intensity.

My father goes missing in my dream.

This man has been my role model throughout my life and I love him dearly.

The heartbreak started to set in. I feel it, even in my dreams.

I couldn't find him anywhere. I am searching and searching until the moment when an officer tells me that my father's body was found under the floorboards that I had scoured over numerous times, looking for him alive.

His body is wheeled away in front of me, covered in burns and lacerations that the demon from my childhood took on.

Everything begins to spiral as whatever came after and took my father away starts in on me. In the dream state, I still feel it grabbing at my ankles and dragging me away as I scream and thrash in an effort to escape the same fate as my father.

I don't remember what I did while under the spell of my terror, but I awoke to find my boyfriend knocked out cold on the hallway linoleum floor with blood drying to his face and neck. He is still breathing and every ounce of me is hoping he won't remember what I did to him since I don't even remember. My face is filled with tears and I'm rocking back and forth wondering where the hell Bryce is.

How can I be so destructive? What am I supposed to do? I'm becoming the monster my terrors created.