It Came from the Silence

It first appeared in my childhood, I recall its murky presence lurking in the darkness of my bedroom waiting for everyone else to fall asleep. Then it would creep in over my legs and place all its weight on my chest, the feeling of asphyxiation would overcome me. It watched me suffocate while it fed into my dreams like leeches on the skin. Sometimes I felt like the silence gave it power to keep manifesting, it was the only time it tormented me. I used to find comfort in the aluminum blades rotating from my fan or the background noise from a TV, these were the only real ways I could fall sleep.

When I was young, I'd anger my mom for staying up late watching late-night talk shows on school days. O'Brien, Leno and Letterman kept me company during these periods of insomnia when I had nothing else to do but procrastinate the night away.

"Santiago, I'm not going to tell you again. Go to sleep! I want you up at 6 a.m. on the dot!" she'd warned me. "Or your dads going to hear about it!"

When I'd disobey, she would issue her own brand of corporate punishment. Then when she'd leave me, I was left to fend for myself. I was perturbed to hear the same mimic sounds of my mom's voice outside my door again at 3 a.m. when she had long been asleep. Though I'd never saw the creature who disturbed me, I'd render images of him with my imaginative mind. I'd visualize a four-foot tall humanoid creature with a loincloth around his waist and a grotesque face like that of Lubdan the Leprechaun. 

The first time It succeeded to get me out of bed, I remembered hovering across the wooden floors of my home mumbling in my parents room unintelligible sentences. That feeling of desperation and inability to communicate was terrifying to me, I was like a host in an automated malfunctioning body.

"Come outside to meet me, Santiago" it mimicked in repetition. It also created odd yelping sounds and cries of wounded small animals to entrap me. When I'd hesitate, it would intimidate me with snarling sounds from a larger predatory beast. It toyed with the range of its vocal sounds it made, causing my skin to crawl every time.

The bad nightmares diminished slightly as I grew older, but on occasions I still felt something watching me when I slept in complete silence. Like he was still in my vicinity, hiding when I turned my head to look out for it. That lingering fear of the unknown always made the hairs behind my neck stand.

One day, I was out mingling and drinking with friends when the conversation came about, I spoke of my ongoing troubles with sleep paralysis. My spiritual friend Liz recommended I speak to a man she had met during a yoga retreat in Bali. He was a cognitive-behavioral therapist who treated people with an inclination with the country's deep-rooted beliefs in spirituality and self discovery.

The next day, I dialed his phone number.

"Hi. Is this Professor David Abbott"

"Yes, may I ask whose calling?"

I paused for a second to gather my thoughts and push myself to continue. "This is Santiago. My friend Elizabeth shared this number with me. I was told you could be of some help with the problem I'm having.".

"Of course, I remember Liz. Thank you for reaching out. What type of problems are your experiencing, Santiago?".

"I, well. I feel these figures sometimes before I sleep or at times when I'm awake. They're from the nightmares I had as a kid. They've been occurring more lately." I sighed. "I feel like sometimes it's hard to get a good night's sleep". 

"I see. When did these difficult dreams begin again?"

"A couple of months ago." 

"OK, that's a little unusual I'll admit. I'm wondering if there was anything that caused you to relive some type of childhood trauma. Listen, Santiago before you say anything else, I want to make sure you're willing to commit to putting an end to this problem. Will you be willing to meet up?"

"Yes, Professor. This might seem too persistent, but I had a bad one last night. Are you available anytime soon?" 

"Sure, when are you thinking?"

"Any chance to meet tonight?"

"You know what. I had a patient cancel on me today, my schedules free."

*****

Few hours later, I found myself in a strange town in a small office park. I waited for him in the lobby where I sat with an antsy woman reading a dream analysis book. She had dark circles around her eyes and tapped her feet impatiently against the foot of her chair. She listened to a recording on her phone of what sounded like groggy sounds of sleep-talking. "I d-don't think this is going to be very helpful for David." she mumbled.

The longer I waited, the more I second guessed myself being there. In my family mental health was treated with a bowl of chicken soup and a good cry. I was afraid I was going to commit to spending money on this and it would only amount to some fortune-cookie advice and a Nyquil prescription. I wasn't sure if I wanted to get out of there or not and the sounds of the woman muttering words besides me wasn't helping me focus. 

Right before I stood up, a tall thin man came in from his office wearing a grey blazer and a buttoned-shirt and tie. He noticed me first and smiled. Then turned to the woman in the room.

His smile seemed genuine as he reached to shake her hand. "Ms. Inatomi. Thank you for stopping by. Let's go inside and get to talking."

She perched up and followed him into the room.

I paced my gaze once more across the room and something caught my eye. Aside from the minimalist decor, there was a portrait in the corner, a reproduction of Henry Fuseli's "The Nightmare" hung up. I found it odd he would have something so creepy up there. Something about the Horse poking its head out and smiling voyeuristically through the mahogany curtains while the demon sat on the unconscious woman reminded me of my situation. I thought I'd give the professor a chance, maybe he was familiar with the complexity of a bad dream. Maybe it was his way to show his patients he understood their fears.

After a few minutes, the woman had come out and appeared much more calm. She lifted her hands to her face and stared at them closely, mumbling in short repetitive phrases. "Look at your hands, do they look normal? Are they normal? Yes. Yes, they're normal, alright."

Then the professor came out to greet me. He readjusted the thick glasses on his face and smiled with his thin mustache. He seemed friendly to me.

"It's good to see you. Santiago, I presume?"

"It's really nice to meet you too, Professor"

"You can call me, David. Please come with me" He guided me to his office and asked me immediately to lay down on a leather long-chair. I felt a little odd as it was my first time visiting a therapist, the session seemed to be moving fast, but I was relaxed.

We had a discussion about my sleeping problems, I gave him vague descriptions about the creature that kept appearing in my dreams. He finally recommended we try a procedure to help alleviate the agitation. 

"Take a deep breath Santiago. I want you to focus on a small area above the ceiling. Focus on your breathing, focus on the exhaling and inhaling of your breath."

"Sure..." I closed my eyes and did as he asked. His voice sounded soothing, he spoke in a way that sounded like vibrations. 

"I want you to picture yourself in a quiet desolate beach in an island far away. Focus on the calm waves crashing into shore. Picture them as your body slowly becomes numb. You're no longer focused on the sensation of your legs as they lay on the sandy beach. You hear the sounds of slow drumming in the distance, they're in sync almost within the natural rhythm of the waters. The sensation of your arms are gone, it's only your face you can feel now. Keep them close for me. You're away from all the stresses in your regular life, all the drama, all the tribulations are now gone. You could only hear the sounds of your breathing now, that's all that matters. 

I shook my head, my lips never moved but the voice inside blurted out. "Really hypnosis? Great. I'm really getting scammed now."

"Santiago...?" someone called out. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

The room was dark and I felt the sensation of something creeping up my leg again crawling up to my thighs and with their pressure pushing against my lungs. "Hey! I can't breath!" I tried to open my mouth but nothing came out. My eyes wouldn't open, I could only feel its warm breath on my face.

"This guys a fucking quack. Get out!"

"Whose there?"

"Santiago, your father's going to know you've been up all night." it whispered.

"Shit!" I jolted. The professor had been across from me at his desk.

"Mr. Santiago? Are you ok?"

"I think so..."

"You were talking in your sleep. Do you remember anything?"

"I think I felt it again."

"You looked flustered. How old were you when these episodes began?"

"I was probably around 11-years-old."

"Can you recall anything particularly troubling around this period in your life. A tragic event of any sort? Perhaps revolving someone you loved dearly."

I looked down to my hands shaking. "I had a um. There was a..." 

"Santiago, you're turning red." 

Then I felt a panic attack again, as if it was near me, somewhere in this room there was something watching me. I turned to the therapist writing in his notepad with a pencil, "You don't think I'm crazy?"

The professor seemed calm. "Of course not. This is a little unorthodox but I'd like to try a new experiment with you. I know it seems like we're going nowhere but think of this as a junction railway. It will all connect soon." 

"What is it?"

"It's safe, but may be considered a little invasive. I will be here with you along the way watching you through a camera. If you feel uncomfortable and would like to stop at any moment. Please gesture me with lifting your hand up or calling out for me."

"Sure, I'm open for unorthodox if it will help me sleep normal again."

The professor played a recording of ambient musical sounds of an Indonesian jungle with Javanese musical instruments in the foreground as he explained the intricacies of how to lucid dream effectively.

"And that's the trick, Santiago. You need to deceive your body into thinking you're asleep when you're not. We're going to build a strong mental discipline together."

He lead me to another room connected to his office.

I followed him in and it looked like I was in a production set for a movie. There were foam wedges all around in abstract patterned shapes. "What is this?"

"This is an anechoic chamber. You'll be spending no more than 30 minutes in here alone. You'll find the sounds in here discomforting at first, but please remain calm and take a seat if you get a little dizzy. Remember the reality checks, I taught you if you in case you doze off. As we discussed, if you can pinch your nose and breathe, you're still dreaming. Try to snap out of it. Remember to analyze your hands, do they look normal to you?"

"I won't forget" 

As instructed, he left me in the room and I stood inside for a few minutes listening to amplified sounds of my entire organ system. Immediately the pressure of all the sounds around me seemed to congest my head. When I spoke, there was nothing to reverberate the sounds, they echoed loudly until they scattered. I found myself listening to sounds I had never known to exist. The rustling on the fabrics of my shirt when I moved, the fluids in my throat flowing and the popping joints from my bones. I listened to the pulsating sounds of the blood flowing through my veins sloshing back and forth, it didn't take a long time for my imagination to run wild.

From the other room, the professor shut off the lights to emphasize the effects. My brain had recalibrated and warped me into a miniscule version of myself. The size of the room I sat in was now gargantuan and I found myself clutching at a familiar red blanket I remembered from my childhood. I saw my sisters Strawberry Shortcake doll looking in my direction, a Super Nintendo on the old boxed-shaped TV, a bedroom restoration from my memories.

Then the high-pitched yelp of a small dog coming from outside. I opened the oversized door in my room, it had pencil-marked tallies on the edges that used to measure my height. A sound called to me from outside. There was a stream of blood guiding me through the porch. My old neighbor Ronnie had been there watering his plants next door. He had died nearly ten years ago.

Then a shadow appeared, it was a small puppy who looked up at me whimpering and crying frightfully. I stood petrified as it got closer and it revealed himself to be deceased. Its skin was deteriorating and he was missing an eye, he opened his mouth revealing a large gaping hole with sharp teeth that emitted sounds of human screams.

He began to dissolve me with his mouth.

Then someone opened the front gate. A shadow ran to me and reached its hand out.

"Santiago, take my hand!"

When it appeared closer It divulged itself from the darkness. He was the professor, only slightly different. His thin mustache was now a rugged biker beard and his head fully shaven. His arms were riddled with tattoos.

"Mr. Santiago, you need to take my hand, before it consumes you!" .

"Wha- What's going on"

"We need to get you out of here!"

"But, I can't move..."

"The demon is real Santiago. It's an evil repressed spirit from your past."

The professor had a curved sword with a wooden tau tau doll. He pointed it towards the demonic figure drooling at my feet. It vanished for a second before reappearing much larger and more terrifying than before. I was finally able to move my muscles and get behind David. The creatures arm stretched and it grabbed my wrist tight and pulled me. The professor quickly sliced it away.

I jolted up exasperated from the chaise lounge chair condensed in sweat and reappeared back in the his office again. 

There the professor laid on his reclined seat sleeping. I ran to shake him, but he was gone. He vanished when I blinked. Something seemed off. Someone knocked on the door.

"Santiago, please it's me! Open the door." a voice whispered muzzled.

"Don't do it, Santiago", another voice said.

I remembered some of the tricks the professor taught me to wake up. I blinked repeatedly but nothing happened. So I looked for a book, a trick was to read to activate the part of my brain not used in REM to wake up.

The sounds of the pounding of the door got louder. "Santiago, It's David. Open up!" I hesitated and hovered my hand on the door knob. "Open up, you scared little bitch!"

I remembered how to manipulate a dream from the lessons he taught me. I conjured up a book and when it appeared I began to read it slowly.

I jolted again this time from the sound-proof chamber.

"Santiago?" The professor said through the speaker. "Santiago, you're up."

"I don't... know what's real anymore." I whispered.

"Santiago, remember your hands and tell me if they look normal to you. Only you know the look of them, the little blemishes in your hands and details."

I did, he was right. I was awake. 

"Professor, you were there. In my dream, only you looked much different." After all these years, I realized the demon stemmed from my memory of losing my dog. I watched him suffer in my arms and I never dealt with that loss."

He opened the doors in the chamber and noticed a red burn mark on my hand.

"Whatever it was, Santiago. We're closer to overcoming it together. This was progress."