Otherwise known as the inability to sleep.
I do not have insomnia. Nor do I have any inability in sleeping. I sleep quite fine. Though the problem comes after I go to sleep. The dreams. Oh God. The dreams. No wait. I’m wrong to even call them dreams. They are more of a nightmare… No no no a step even further. I experience night terrors.
What is night terror? They are feelings of great fear experienced on suddenly waking in the night. They aren’t something that is fun to have unlike nightmares where you know you are going to survive. They aren’t unrealistic with Jason kidnapping you then you end up in a beach resort. No… night terrors are extremely realistic. So realistic I can never tell the difference between reality and fiction. And oh the terror they possess. I can never get away without peeing my bed. I just cannot control my body anymore. I feel so scared.
Someone help me.
When did they start you ask? How did they start? Well boy oh boy are you in for a story.
The clock chimes 12 and midnight has arrived. I shift in bed feeling uneasiness and a weight on me I cannot describe. There is some shuffling that can be heard. I try to go back to sleep when the thought hits me. Shuffling? I am not even moving anymore yet the blankets are moving. The fear wakes me up a bit further. My senses start to tingle and now I feel a myriad of emotions and senses. Wet. Naked. Cold yet warm. But the last feeling is the one which terrorizes me the most – the sense of someone’s hand on my thighs.
I do not move. I cannot move. The fear has gripped me to tight. I do not even dare to move as the person finishes his business. I try to close my eyes to help me relax while the constant shuffling is heard and the feeling of liquid touching my skin is making me queasy. I want to scream and shout at whoever this person is to stop and leave me alone but I do not have the courage to. I do not have the courage to move. I do not have the courage to do anything but stay as perfectly still as possible. I never knew I would be so helpless in such a situation.
I’m crying now. The man had left after he had reached the climax he had wanted. Hostel Day 1 and I had already been raped. It was a janitor. I hadn’t moved a single muscle while he had enjoyed himself fully. The tears are more than I can bear; they end up making me stifle. I lock the door and rush to the bathroom and scrub myself until my skin turns red and small droplets of blood is pouring out of them. I wince in pain and I finally stop, falling down on my knees, crying even more now.
Since then, though I locked the door and the incident failed to repeat itself the terror never stopped. Every night I was woken to my own shuffling but the thought that it could be someone else’s scared me. Every night I peed myself but I could never be sure that I was the only one to make me wet. All these thoughts have become such embedded into me that I do not want to sleep anymore.
I want to be able to sleep normally again.