My head under me, trapped in darkness

The following incident probably happened in 1966. I was in the seventh grade, during a time when we had moved back to Missouri for less than a year.

I was tall for my age, overweight and non-athletic. I had watched smaller, thinner kids do backward rolling somersaults. They had rolled backward directly over their heads, quickly and without any problems. I wanted to be able to do it, but I wanted to try it at home, where they couldn't see my attempts.

So, one night at home I decided to try it. My mother kept telling me not to do it, that I was too heavy. I insisted on trying, though. I tried over and over, but the best I could do was to roll backwards over one shoulder. I couldn't seem to roll directly over my head. It was too uncomfortable to go directly over my head, and I kept going to one side instead.

I finally made a more determined attempt at it, to do it despite the discomfort. And I managed to do it. The results, however, were not what I had anticipated.

I was in darkness, and my chin was pressed firmly against my chest. My head felt like it was folded face-first underneath my chest, with the back of my neck severely stretched. It was a very uncomfortable position, and I couldn't seem to breathe. I felt that the front of my neck was so severely bent that it was blocking the airflow. I couldn't move, though, and had no awareness of my body much beyond my head and neck.

Perhaps six feet away, I heard my mother and my younger brother talking, but they seemed unaware of what had happened to me. I kept hoping that one of them would notice what had happened, and straighten my body up so that I could breathe again. Nobody came and helped, though, and they kept on talking. I was afraid that I might die there while they continued talking, unaware.

It seemed like such a tragic situation, for someone to die when it could easily have been prevented by some people nearby, if they had only turned to look, if they had only known. How terrible they would feel when they finally realized that something was wrong. I felt sad for them, thinking of how they would feel and of how it would bother them all the rest of their lives.

It seemed terribly tragic that such a thing should happen, that someone should die in this way. That it didn't have to happen.


Suddenly, I raised my head and got up off the floor. Everything was normal again.

I didn't try any more somersaults, though. I was saddened that other people could do it and I could not, but I didn't want to risk repeating what had happened. It wasn't worth dying over, or having a broken neck.

It was definitely one of those times when I should have listened to my mother.

Suddenly, sleep paralysis

I've gone directly into a sleep paralysis state without falling asleep first at least once, but I was lying down at the time, and was extremely tired. It was the middle of the day, though, and I had not intended to actually fall asleep.

It was a strange feeling to have it happen. It seemed that all of a sudden my mind retreated. I could still think, but it was like I withdrew the physical connections and was locked into a small space inside my head. I was still somewhat aware of my body, more aware in some ways than before but less aware in others. I was unable to move at all, though. The only thing I had any control over was my breathing. I kept trying to make myself breath harder and deeper, and I seemed to be actually doing it, but it felt very odd. I seemed to have no direct connection to it. It was like my attempts were being conveyed through some intermediary, and I wasn't getting any feedback except for noting that my body did seem to be breathing deeper and faster. It was almost like giving commands to a sluggish robot that responded slowly, and not right away, but eventually did respond if you kept pushing the buttons.

I kept up the fight, refusing to give up, and finally, all of a sudden, my mind reconnected with my body and I could move. That was a little odd, too. It felt that my mind suddenly reached out and grasped the nerves that led through my body, and, while reaching out, simultaneously retreated. For before, my mind was alone, in a small place by itself, but now it was a small part of something bigger, my body.

Dream - The figure in the doorway

I had an odd dream in early January 2005.

I fell asleep for awhile in my chair at the computer. I sensed that there was someone in the doorway, which was across the room and to my left. The person, who I didn't actually see, just sense (my head wasn't pointed in that direction), was dressed in a long, tan trenchcoat, like old-time private eyes might wear. The coat was wrapped tightly around the figure and was tied closed. The figure also had a very wide-brimmed hat pulled down low on its head. Its face was just a dark shadow under it. The figure was very skinny and did not seem to be very tall, perhaps 5 to 5 1/2 feet.

I tried to move, but I was partially paralyzed. I could move my legs back and forth, but when I tried to move my hands, they seemed to move with excruciating slowness. Perhaps they didn't really move at all.

The figure in the doorway seemed to be watching me. I felt that it was more than just watching, though. That it was "aware" of me on some deeper level.

I finally managed to wake up. The figure, of course, was gone.

In retrospect, the figure in the doorway reminds me of some stories of extraterrestrial aliens (the Visitors) disguising themselves. It's hard to know what to think of it, though.

Half paralyzed, and something tried to take me away

An odd thing happened one time when I was sleeping. It was probably back in the 1980's. I heard a buzzing sound, and there was a roar, like a freight train. I felt that something was happening, and that someone or something was trying to take me away. I didn't know who they were, what they wanted, or if I would be allowed to return.

I fought against it, and tried to wake up. I was on my back, and the upper half of my body was paralyzed, but I could move my legs. I swung my knees back and forth and slammed one leg into the wall, over and over. It would have been so easy to just give in and drift back off to sleep, or to whatever it was that awaited me. I refused to give in, though, I felt that what was happening was too important.

Finally, I was able to fully wake up, and everything was normal. I'm not sure exactly what the experience means. It sounds almost like a partial or failed out-of-body experience attempt, except for the feeling of danger and the feeling that something was trying to take me away.