Night-Mare: The Demon That Kisses You In Your Sleep

 I don’t remember falling asleep or even getting into bed but I do remember waking up. The room was dark and not a normal dark, it was almost pitch black with just enough moonlight streaming through the curtains to cast shadows. At first, I couldn’t recall where I was, I tried to sit up but couldn’t. My body felt heavy, the only thing I could move was my eyes. I looked around, my eyes darting in all directions in order to get my bearings. I was at home in my apartment. A small cubicle of an apartment that I kept as clean as I could. I was in my bedroom, under the covers and it was dark.

           And then I saw it, a shadow moving in the corner near my closet. I could feel the air in the room shift to make way for its presence. I tried to sit up again, nothing. Maybe if I called out someone would hear me…but who would hear? I lived by myself. Maybe the neighbors? But they were used to me screaming in the middle of the night from sheer terrors that I had no recollection of upon waking. How many times had I woken up sweaty, out of breath and scared? More times than I could count. Although I am never able to recall the reason why I was frightened after I woke up, I retain the fear. The crippling fright that came when you try to outrun your own mind. I remembered not being able to breathe, clawing at my chest, my throat, trying to open an airway, wishing my inhaler worked in the imaginary realm of my dreams.

I always remembered running out of air, the feeling in my legs slowly evaporating into the air that felt sticky and hot although I was cold, so, so cold. I have never been able to recall why I am so terrified but that terror stays with me. I can pick it up at any instant, at the supermarket, in the bowling alley. And if that fear was awful, the anxiety I felt now, as I stared at my closet door, was excruciating. I couldn’t see what it was clearly but I knew it was some evil, some sort of demonic force that had come to terrify me in my sleep but I had interrupted its plans by waking up.

The light coming from the window shifted but the shadows didn’t. I tried to scream, tried to send it off with my voice but all that came out was silence, not even a sigh or breath. Had the apparition stolen my voice in preparation for his misdeeds? What could I do now? What was there to do? I couldn’t see anything but the shadow it cast, I couldn’t tell you what it looked like, if it had hair, if it were clothed or naked but I could feel its grin. I could feel it, like the way you feel the leer of a lecherous old man, and it made my skin crawl. If only I could get up, if I could stand, maybe I could banish this creature of the shadows with the light of the lamp on my nightstand. I could send it back to the land of terror and pain it came from.

I heard the ticking of the wall clock, the silver numbers barely glistening enough for me to make out the time. 3:15. One-fifth. For some reason, I always simplified time. It was three-fifteenths and there was some sort of demon or ghost standing near my bedroom closet but all I could think of was how three-fifteenths simplified down to one-fifth. How pitiful was that? I looked out of my window, through the curtains I could just barely see the moon. There were no stars but the moon was there. I felt its presence just as I felt the creature’s. Once again, I turned my eyes toward my closet. The shadow was gone. My eyes frantically travelled my room. God, why couldn’t I turn my head? Where did it go? Where are you, you demon? I screamed the words in my head, wishing they would come out of my mouth, knowing they wouldn’t. I could feel something hot and wet sliding down the side of my face. How long had I been crying? What was going to become of me now? Closing my eyes, I hoped, prayed that I was still asleep, that I would wake up and forget all about this experience.

Then I felt it.

There was a heaviness on my chest. I knew it was sitting on me. I knew that if I opened my eyes, it would be there. Its face would be close to mine, its breath rank and rotten, filling my nostrils. The child in me wanted to believe that if I kept my eyes closed it would go away, it would be satisfied with my fear and leave. What if it had come to kill me? What if this is what people go through when they die alone at home? What if someone came days later and assumed that I had died in my sleep? No one would know that I had been killed! No one would spend time trying to catch my killer—this evil presence sitting on my chest. This being that would devour my soul the moment I opened my eyes.

I thought back to all of the church services my mom dragged me to and the tales my great grandmother used to tell me about the devil and his imps, how they tempted you in beautiful forms but when you saw their true selves, their hideous visages, they killed you. In her stories, their faces and bodies had been contorted by the evil and hatred in their souls. She would always remind me to stay mindful and prayerful. Demons can easily approach a sinner. Sinners don’t have the same amount of protection as a good Christian. This thing was here because I was an easy meal. I tried to be a good person, a good Christian but sometimes I forgot to pray, sometimes I didn’t feel like reading the Scriptures and now I would pay for it. I would die at the hands of this thing on my chest and I couldn’t even pray for my soul before I made my exit.

Dear God, I thought, please get me out of this. Please help me. The tears were coming faster now, shadows were bouncing off of my eyelids and my body felt so heavy. I couldn’t recall what it was like to have power over my extremities. I just needed to move, to breathe without the added weight of this thing.

I opened my eyes.

It was grotesque, not in a gory way but it was like a reflection, a reflection of every evil, vile, disturbing thought I had ever had. It was like Dorian Gray’s portrait, the worst parts of myself. Except I knew it couldn’t be me because I was female and it was male, at least male-looking. It had dark green eyes, the color of emeralds. They were beautiful but it was as though there was a shadow cast over them, as though they held secrets I didn’t want to learn. All demons had, at one time, been angels, they were once beautiful and pure. Someone had told me that once or maybe I had read it somewhere. I couldn’t be sure. The only thing on this creature that pointed to that exalted past were its eyes, eyes that at one time held truth, eyes that bore into my soul. And I had been right, it was grinning. Not a smile but a grin, a sickly twist of the lips that would make any normal person want to curl up and hide. It was the grin that was the most terrifying aspect of this demon, a grin that told you exactly what this beast had in mind. Oh, dear God, I shouted mentally, was this my destiny? Would I die young and unaccomplished? Would anyone remember me?

And if people did remember me, how would they see me? Would they think that I was a good person, a paragon of…of…whatever I had done in my mediocre life? Had I ever done something memorable? I looked at the demon laying on top of me and the more I stared into its eyes, the heavier it got, the more I struggled to breath, the lighter my head felt. I stared at its uncanny sneer, the teeth that glistened with saliva, the lips cracked and dry, and I thought back to all the times that I had gossiped, all the times I gave a snark backhanded compliment. I recalled the time in high school when I made fun of that short and insanely smart Chinese kid just because everyone else was doing it.

My entire being wanted to disappear, to sink into the mattress just so I could evade this apparition. I tried to look away, but even my eyelids betrayed me, refusing to close at my command. And it knew, it knew that I couldn’t get away, knew that I was trapped. I could feel the darkness, the shadows creeping in, pulling at my arms and legs, the extremities I had no control over. I would lose myself to this darkness if I didn’t do something, if I didn’t escape. But how could I get away? I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. I could barely breathe. I cursed the monstrosity sitting on my chest, I cursed the shadows it lived in and the night for being so dark.

 What would I do if I could move? What would change, if anything? Would I truly be able to escape? Or was it all just a dream? But how would I know if I didn’t try? I had to try, even if I was devoured by this thing, even if it tormented me for hours before completing its heinous mission. I had to escape. While my mind filled itself up with ideas, it stared at me, it peered into my soul and began to bring its odious face closer and closer. He was obviously mocking me in my helpless state, mocking my fear, my inability to do anything. I loathed this creature that reminded me of the chasms of my soul. It made me recollect everything that I had wanted to stay hidden, even from my own memory. I craved blissful ignorance.

I craved last night, when I went to sleep only worrying about meeting my deadline at work. But, after seeing this thing, I doubted deadlines would ever hold the same importance in my life. I don’t think anything will ever seem as crucial as it had before tonight. If I died tonight, that would be one thing but if I lived, if I lived, how would I go on about my life? Would I wake up and go to work? Eat leftovers for dinner every other night? Hang out with acquaintances who didn’t annoy me over the weekend? Or would I just stare at the wall, watching time idly pass by, never free from the grin and emerald eyes of this monster? Would it come back for me days from now? In a week? A year? A decade? Its face got closer, I could feel its breath on my face and nausea rose in me, I would never be able to explain to another person what this breath smelled like. It came closer, wetting its lips with its saliva-dipped tongue. What would it do? Would it suck my soul out from my lips?

Would I be able to bite it if it came closer? I grew happy at the thought. I would be able to do something, would be able to harm this creature so bent on harming me. Its breath was awful and as it grew closer, the air seemed to get hazy and I felt more and more dizzy. I wished it was still just a shadow. I wished it had never moved from its hiding place near my closet. I wished it was morning, I wished that I lived with someone who could’ve saved me from this demon. Its mouth was so close to mine that I could almost feel it and strangely a peace come over me. I would die, yes, and I knew I should have been afraid but for some reason I wasn’t afraid anymore. It would torment me, suck my soul dry without leaving any traces but the fear that had always been my companion had left me. I was alone and I would never again wake up drenched in sweat.

It reminded me of the time that I had gone to the hospital and was in so much pain they had to put me on a high dose of medication. I had felt so calm afterward, this is exactly what it had felt like when I was on the hospital bed, if not better. I could not think back to any time where my mind wasn’t racked with thoughts of my anxiety, my shortcomings, the demons I had forced into the closet of my mind. But now, all of that had dissipated. I could breathe deeply, no inhaler necessary. It was so peaceful that all I wanted to do was go to sleep. Peaceful sleep.

The demon’s lips touched mine.

Suddenly, I could feel my arms and legs. I tried to wiggle my fingers and they moved. My chest felt light. I didn’t remember closing my eyes but when I opened them the demon was gone. The moonlight came through the window and I checked the shadows. Nothing. I sat up with my newfound peace and stretched. I examined myself in the light coming from my window, my arms and legs did not look any different. I turned on the light just to make sure that the demon would not return to finish its assignment. It was just a small bulb but it did the job. I checked the silver numbers of the wall clock. 3:30. One tenth. Only fifteen minutes had passed? It had felt like forever. How long does it take someone to lose their mind to fear and panic? Apparently, it took me fifteen minutes. I wonder if that is a record.

I couldn’t go back to sleep now so I headed to the bathroom. I didn’t need to use it, but I always went to the bathroom after I woke up. Routine. I walked cautiously down the hallway that was still dark enough to hide the demons and apparitions of the world. As soon as I reached the bathroom I turned on the light.

“Aaaahhh!” I screamed, the first time testing my voice. I hadn’t even known that the creature had gifted me back my voice. But it didn’t really sound like my voice. And the face in the mirror wasn’t mine either. The face in the mirror was cold and cruel. I touched it, tried to force it into a normal shape but it was frozen. It was frozen into this evil façade, my once warm, brown eyes were cold and hard, like stone. There was no joy or happiness, in fact, corpses probably had more joy in their appearances than me. And even more awful than the eyes that were not mine was the mouth. The lips in the reflection were contorted into a sickly-sweet grin, a grin of deception, a grin of envy. It was the grin I had worn when I made fun of David, when I insulted Taylor and now it was a permanent feature. It would be the first thing people saw when they looked at me. They would see straight into the murky depths of my soul. I would have to look at my soul every day. It was so hideous. A tear fell down the face in the reflection but I couldn’t feel it.

I couldn’t feel it.

I couldn’t feel it.

I felt…peace.