a recurrent bit of crazy

you can read this blog in whichever light makes sense to you. you may think i'm delusional or have some psychosis going on up in the brains, but i'll recount it anyway...

since i was around 11 years old, i've had these really bizarre night terror experiences. as an adult, i've heard all kinds of theories and ideas about the "spiritual world" and have since developed my own ideas about what's what in this world of the unseen. even though i don't fully get what goes on in this unseen place, based upon what i've read and seen on the earth and in people, i believe that there is a pretty black and white quality to what goes on there.

on the other hand, though i do believe in good and evil, i don't feel that it's clear what that looks like in the concrete world we stomp our feet upon.

having established those things:
in the tender years of my preadolescence, i was fairly clueless in my opinions of good, evil, or any other major substantive issue. i hummed along in my own way... jumping knee deep into muddy puddles and catching fireflies... stumbling on racism and violence... abuse... making dandelion crowns and necklaces... building forts in the prairie behind our home... listening confusedly to crass sexual jokes and being propositioned while sitting in "cooperative groups" at Jane Addams Elementary... picking blackberrys and catching sunbathing garter snakes. i remember the innocence and the oozing darkness that began to vein into that sunlit landscape.

i've been an insomniac since i've had a steady stream of conscious memories. from the time i began to read, i've used books as my method to induce sleep. sometimes reading would have the opposite effect and keep me up until the dawn anyway, but i figured that getting into a good story was better than tossing and turning on the ceiling of my bedroom. i was always the last one awake; my bedside lamp was the last to be switched off. sometimes it was lonely and scary; i had a period of OCD involving obsessions with murderous criminals entering my home or the house catching fire--i could see the screaming burning bodies of my brothers and parents.

it was a quiet Spring night. i remember shutting my window against the cool because the chill was invigorating me rather than causing sleep. i lay in my bed with my book turned towards the light as i read. i fell asleep with the light on, the book still curled around my fingers. i don't remember how long i slept or what exactly woke me, but as the blurry ceiling came into focus, i suddenly became aware of a heavy pressure pressing me into my bed. i was startled into consciousness and splashed into a cold frightened alertness. something is wrong. i can't move. i began to panic as i tried to turn my body and lift my arms. something is in here with me.

i could barely breathe because something was sharply clamping and constricting my lungs. i could feel the pages of the book against my fingers and dampness seeping into the paper. everything was so sharp and clear. cold sweat covered my face and arms and neck. this isn't a dream.

and then i heard a low growl coming from somewhere right above my paralyzed body. a quiet malicious, hate-filled snarl. i couldn't even scream as wild horror overtook me.
and then i thought of Him. and desperately i prayed as i struggled to move. i tried pushing words into the air.
and then i uttered His name. my tongue loosened as i spoke it again and then once more. the pressure on my body lifted and i felt released. i scrambled into a sitting position and pressed my back against the wall. heaving breaths. damp crinkled thumbprint on page 232. i couldn't sleep until i could see the sun against my walls.

this experience obviously did nothing for my insomnia. it was confusing and upsetting. and it was recurrent. until about the age of 27, this has happened to me once or twice a year. the most sinister part about all of this was that whatever it was that tormented me in the nighttime began to have a very familiar quality. it was as if this menacing persona somehow knew me and was chasing me. mocking me.
at first, i was afraid of talking about it to others for fear that they might think i was crazy. but, as i grew older, i actually began running into people with similar experiences. every seemingly random visitation was terrifying, but every time, the remedy of speaking His name caused the sharp pressure and paralysis to lift, the growling to fade, and an increasing sense of peace. a decade ago, when i recommitted my life to God, there was a subtle shifting that began in my understanding about what was happening to me. the last time i was attacked was about 3 years ago.

i remember slowly waking next to my now ex-husband to the sleepy blue-gray morning. frozen limbs and heaviness and the sense of a malevolent presence drew me into awareness. unlike previous times, this time i felt completely calm. i felt safe. i knew who God was; i was His daughter and nothing could harm me. i had a deep sense of trust and peace as i spoke to God into the predawn light. yawning, i turned over to sleep.

for the last 3 years, i haven't had any of those experiences... i wondered if i was no longer a "target"?

this past weekend, i did some random traveling around Korea. the countryside was beautiful and i had a chance to read a book and think and rest. last night at 2 am, we arrived back in Seoul travel-logged and w/ no specific options. the chimjilbahng always seems to be the inevitable eventuality in Korea.

after showering the travel from my body and relaxing in the bubbling pools, the warmth from the heated rooms and floors drew me into a relaxed torpor. despite the problem of having to sleep in a large room with a dozen strangers, i was able to get comfortable on a cushy mat. i pulled a blanket over me. 3:12am. it felt nice. warm.

4:17am. i heard a ferocious growling in my ear. my body jerked, but i couldn't move volitionally. disorientation flooded me. my eardrums were pierced by the shrieking of a ravenous animal thirsting to tear my flesh. i recognized this voice.
for some reason, i just struggled and didn't pray. as i lay on my side, i could feel my hip beginning to bruise as i was pressed into the floor. i felt invisible claws slowly sinking into my side and into my stomach. they raked into my body. it wasn't painful, but i still had this strange sense that i was being invaded. stripped into. the clawing sped faster and faster while my screams were caught and muffled in my throat.
and then i felt like i was being pulled into a dream.

i opened my eyes.
4:17am. i arose uneasily and felt my hip. it didn't feel bruised as i had imagined. i wondered if maybe this time it really had been nothing but a dream. shaking my head, i decided to get my book and read for the rest of the night. i padded quietly across the heated floor towards the stairs when i felt claws sink deep into my hair. hair torn backwards and then i was shoved headlong down the stairs. my body flew on choking hot breath. careening downward. i heard my forehead cracking against the edge of the stairs and felt the grating crush of my vertebrae. i saw blackness spreading from the edges in and could taste the blood that streamed into my nose and down my throat.

my eyes blinked open.
4:19am. i was back on the mat. gasping. unable to move. claws inside my stomach. pulling, scraping, yanking. howling screaming gibberish bursting the air.
suffocation. Lord... Jesus... i need your help right now. get him away from me...

the pressure lifted. i sat up and felt bruises on my hip. bewildered.