I used to think I had secret powers. A sampling:
Sadly, I am now a flightless failed mentalist who has one-sided conversations with babies. Now the only magic power that remains is dreaming. I feel sorry for people who can't remember their dreams, because having mine come back to me is one of my favorite daily rituals.
In the last couple of years, a strange new pattern has developed. Right before I fall asleep, exactly as I take that first step into slumber, an intense shock of fear jolts me awake. I often sit up in bed with tremendous force, gasp for air, feel my heart race, feel a shiver run through my body. I never know why I am so petrified, because there's never anything to remember.
This happened last night, as it does most nights, but it was different this time. I bolted awake, opened my eyes, and saw a tall, thin woman standing at the foot of my bed. She had sallow skin and angular curls spiraling out of her head. She was wearing a thin maroon cardigan over a dress the color of institutional light green, and her malicious grin broadened as she crept forward. She had it out for me.
It was a horrible vision, easily as bad as the childhood fever dream in which I had to save my grandfather's life by singing the Tyson chicken jingle ("Tyson's fee-ding you / like fam-i-leeee") to Bob Barker, who was hosting a game show in my clothes closet. Last night I snapped out of it and escaped that awful woman, but the whole thing felt uncomfortably real.
So now, on the cusp of bedtime, I'm trying to decipher what the scary lady is all about. Why, for the first time in all these years of bizarre jolt-awakes, did I hallucinate her? Just thinking of it is making my heart beat faster, giving me chills. I have no idea why I was so scared of her, or what she might represent.
My childhood self would be disappointed by my lack of special powers. But I feel very fortunate to have a strong subconscious that, for whatever reason, plays tricks on my me. It never runs out of things that make me wonder, which may be the reason we dream in the first place. The subconscious mind is such an exciting mystery, even (especially?) when it makes us see things that don't exist. So maybe that is a secret power that we all have. And with that, I am going to brush my teeth, slip into bed, and see if that harpy dares wake me up tonight.
- As a toddler, I believed that I could understand the cries and gurgles of babies in a secret language indecipherable to adults. As I got closer to kindergarten, I quietly panicked because this special ability was slipping away.
- I had recurring dreams of flying. I could feel the strain of flapping my arms, pushing down to soar up to the top of the maple tree at the property line. I took this as a sign that my dreams could come true. If you had looked at our front lawn during the summer of 1987, you would have seen a bird-legged little girl frustratedly waving her arms up and down.
- Around the fifth grade, I was convinced that I could read minds, which led me to track down magic books that would refine my skills. Ladies and gentlemen, the not-so-amazing Kreskin!
Sadly, I am now a flightless failed mentalist who has one-sided conversations with babies. Now the only magic power that remains is dreaming. I feel sorry for people who can't remember their dreams, because having mine come back to me is one of my favorite daily rituals.
In the last couple of years, a strange new pattern has developed. Right before I fall asleep, exactly as I take that first step into slumber, an intense shock of fear jolts me awake. I often sit up in bed with tremendous force, gasp for air, feel my heart race, feel a shiver run through my body. I never know why I am so petrified, because there's never anything to remember.
This happened last night, as it does most nights, but it was different this time. I bolted awake, opened my eyes, and saw a tall, thin woman standing at the foot of my bed. She had sallow skin and angular curls spiraling out of her head. She was wearing a thin maroon cardigan over a dress the color of institutional light green, and her malicious grin broadened as she crept forward. She had it out for me.
It was a horrible vision, easily as bad as the childhood fever dream in which I had to save my grandfather's life by singing the Tyson chicken jingle ("Tyson's fee-ding you / like fam-i-leeee") to Bob Barker, who was hosting a game show in my clothes closet. Last night I snapped out of it and escaped that awful woman, but the whole thing felt uncomfortably real.
So now, on the cusp of bedtime, I'm trying to decipher what the scary lady is all about. Why, for the first time in all these years of bizarre jolt-awakes, did I hallucinate her? Just thinking of it is making my heart beat faster, giving me chills. I have no idea why I was so scared of her, or what she might represent.
My childhood self would be disappointed by my lack of special powers. But I feel very fortunate to have a strong subconscious that, for whatever reason, plays tricks on my me. It never runs out of things that make me wonder, which may be the reason we dream in the first place. The subconscious mind is such an exciting mystery, even (especially?) when it makes us see things that don't exist. So maybe that is a secret power that we all have. And with that, I am going to brush my teeth, slip into bed, and see if that harpy dares wake me up tonight.
Labels: sleep
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