All members of my household were experiencing nightmares with a similar theme. The details varied but the common element was a sensation of being hunted and watched. Not once did we see a face, and most of the time it was a shadow or only the sensation of a presence hovering while you slept. I rationalized we were all having sleep paralysis episodes. In some cases, the diagnoses fit perfectly, though, in most scenarios, it didn’t.
My son and I both began to sleepwalk. Our eyes were open, our responses to verbal cues were not normal. We either didn’t answer at all, or our responses were vacant and strange. My son rarely responded to being spoken to but was successful in guiding him back to his bed.
Those days were frightening for me. I often woke in strange places inside and outside of the house. We installed childproofing mechanisms on the doors to help to prevent my escape, yet I managed to get out anyway. I woke to find myself in my neighbor’s yard; under the dinner and coffee tables; in the closet of the nursery; under and on the trampoline in the backyard; in the bathtub; in my closet; and in random places on the floor.
They found me posted on their lawn staring at their home.
My neighbors complained of my presence one evening in their front yard. They found me posted on their lawn staring at their home. How creepy is that? When the husband spoke to me, I did not answer him. I continued staring at his home. He ended up walking over to my home to wake my husband to retrieve me.
Another night I woke my children in a sleepwalking episode, and I instructed them to get ready to escape. I was looking out the window and behaving frightened. I insisted that we had to flee. I woke in a standing position up in the middle of my kitchen. My husband was yelling, “What the fuck is wrong with you Mache! Why did you wake the kids?”
Initially, I was infuriated. “What are you talking about? I didn’t wake the kids up. Why are you yelling at me, and why did you wake me up?”
My husband froze and stared at me. He appeared to be frightened. “What?” he queried in a hushed voice “What do you mean, ‘Why did I wake you up?” he said.
“I woke up to you screaming at me? What the hell kind of question is that?”
“Mache, Think about it for a moment. Where were you when I started yelling at you?”
The question seemed odd. It took a moment for it snake it’s a way through my mind, and for me to fully understand what he was asking. “Well, I was…..” I surveyed the kitchen defeated. “I was standing in the middle…… of the ………kitchen.,” I said. I stood there silent, trying to compute what was happening. My kids were peaking out of their room, terrified. “I must have slept walked,” I said absent-mindedly.
“Babe you woke the kids telling them to get ready that something was coming for them.” my husband gently chided.
“Oh my god.” my voice broke into a soft sob. “I am so sorry babies. Mommy is so sorry.” I said as I advanced toward them. I hugged them and we put them back to bed. I couldn’t apologize enough. I cry now retelling the event. How awful that must have been for them. Their mother was teetering on madness, and terrifying them in the middle of the night. I have so many regrets.
Oracle's Closet 