I also realize that no matter how many times I describe it, the whole process will never make any sense to someone who has never had a night terror, but it’s so realistic that sometimes I can’t separate what really happened from what I “think” happened. Wednesday night definitely falls into that category because there are aspects of what I think was going on that I only know didn’t happened because after the fact L told me they weren’t real.
Here’s how I experienced Wednesday night:
L and I are sitting in bed having a calm rational conversation, about what I don’t recall and couldn’t recall immediately afterward. The room was brightly lit. I could see everything clearly. So there we are chatting and the next thing I know is “something” has come out of or off the ceiling and landed to my left and all I know is whatever “it” is I’m freaked and desperate to get away. Needless to say I am screaming and running. Then I suddenly realize L is holding me in place. She has a grip on my arms keeping me on the foot of the bed. My feet don’t quite reach the ground but I can’t stop myself from continuing to try and run, so I’m doing that crazy cartoon thing where the cartoons feet/legs are flailing but they aren’t going anywhere and I’m not sure if I am so much yelling or begging to be let go, but I know I am saying “Let me go”.
From what L has told me Wednesday night actually happened something like this:
We’re both asleep and then I am SCREAMING and making a bolt for it. L grabs me from behind and has her arms wrapped around me; keeping me in place because lord know where the heck I am running to, while simultaneously trying to stop me from screaming because the windows are open and she’s pretty sure the neighbors are going to call the police because I am screaming that loudly and that much. (How's that for a run on sentance)
I haven’t a clue how long this event lasted but it was one of the worst ones I have had since L has known me. I suspect the only one that might qualify as worse is the time she found me screaming and hiding behind the closet door of our bedroom in CT.
So what’s amusing about this? The fact that my perception is so far off from reality, well that and the overwhelming urge I have to apologize to our downstairs neighbors but they don’t understand English, my German sucks, and we’re not really friends. Then it’s the grateful though that I have that the old ornery couple on the second floor is not directly below us, because they really would have called the police.
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