Ghosts, dreams, or something in between?

Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis?

If you haven’t, it’s scary. If you have, you don’t need me to tell you that.

For those who don’t know what it is, Cleveland Clinic said, “Sleep paralysis is when you can’t move right before falling asleep or waking up. It’s temporary. … With sleep paralysis, you’re stuck between sleep phases.”

Symptoms include being unable to speak, pressure on your chest or detaching from your own body (which can’t move), and hallucinations.

It’s terrifying when you try with all your might to move your arms or open your eyes or scream and none of it happens. You feel like a prisoner in your own body while your brain goes rogue.

The strangest sleep paralysis experience I had was at my sister’s dad’s house close to 10 years ago.

Something you should know about her dad, Robbie, is that he has a knack for moving into the most haunted houses in any given area. It’s not deliberate, he’s just magnetically drawn to places where unexplainable things happen.

He once moved into a house on the historic side of town. It was a two-story, center-hall layout, as is common with historical Southern homes, but it had been renovated to look more modern. (That’s a crime against history, if you ask me, but I digress.)

The first night I visited, my sister, Petra, gave me the full tour.

We went upstairs and she showed me a very claustrophobic laundry room and a window in the hall overlooking the backyard.

As we walked back to the stairs, I heard faint piano music. I looked at Petra, who just nodded knowingly. She heard it, too, and apparently, it wasn’t the first time.

The thing is, neither of our phones was making the noise, no one was playing a radio, and there was no piano in that house.

That was the first weird thing. The next was lights turning themselves off. Wouldn’t be a good haunting if that didn’t happen, I guess.

And then, although I could peer out that second-floor window to the ground below, I found that when I was in the backyard, I was terrified to look up at it. It made no sense, but it gripped me with such fear that I took care to never look at it from the ground at night.

Allegedly, one of our friends did. He said he saw a little girl staring down at him.

I cannot corroborate since, you know, I never looked up at the window.

While all this happened at night, the sleep paralysis incident was in broad daylight when I took an afternoon nap.

At the time, I was a full-time college student with a part-time job. That left me pretty tired at times.

Since I had plans with Petra, instead of driving all the way home from my college campus (45-minute drive) just to drive back to town (15-minute drive) later, I decided to save time and gas and just go to her house.

Everyone was at work, but Petra would be home within about an hour-and-a-half.

Since I was tired, I just went to her room, kicked off my shoes, and curled up in bed for a nap.

Petra’s room was on the first floor. It wasn’t far from the back door and the only people who would be coming in anytime soon were Petra or Robbie, so I left the bedroom door open.

I remember the feeling of drifting off, but rather than falling asleep, it was like I kept drifting. And then my eyes reopened, but I quickly realized they weren’t my actual eyes. My real eyes were heavy, closed, and unmoving.

Normally, sleep paralysis traps me in the dark with both my Real Eyes and my Dream Eyes closed throughout.

This time, the Dream Eyes opened and as my Dream Self detached and floated above my Real Self, I saw the room around me.

It looked exactly as it should, but the colors were different. Everything was outlined in sketched, inexact white lines, giving it this glowy effect, and the colors were mostly light shades of pink and orange with pale blue shadows.

I remember wondering if I was dreaming or trapped in sleep paralysis. Typically, like I said, I’m stuck in the dark and I know I’m half-dreaming but can’t escape.

This was different because I’d never detached before, and I wondered if it was one of those dreams where you realize you’re dreaming and start controlling the narrative.

It was not, and unfortunately, the back door opened.

I was rather unhappy when two figures slowly walked into view and, of course, paused at the bedroom door.

They were human-shaped but weren’t clearly outlined. One was an average human height. The other was about half its size. I took them to be an adult and a child, though whether they were parent and child I couldn’t tell — especially since I couldn’t see their faces.

I’d describe them as shadows, but instead of being dark, they were solid white. I can’t even say they were made of light; they were just white shadows.

The smaller one turned its head. I only knew because at that moment, I knew I was being stared at.

It started walking into the room. The bigger one turned its head too but stayed at the door. Just watching with eyes I couldn’t see.

I started getting freaked out. Dream Me was floating and capable of some movement, yes, but still tethered to Real Me. All I could do was watch as this thing moved toward my body.

Growing up, Nana always told me if I was in a situation like this to call on the name of Jesus. I started trying, but Dream Me couldn’t speak and Real Me couldn’t move their mouth.

The little ghostly figure stopped by the bed and just kept staring. It never reached for me. It seemed like it was just curious, but I was still terrified and trying to scream.

I don’t know how I could tell, because there was no sound, but somehow, I knew the bigger figure called for the little one. I remember the little one snapped its head to look back at its adult, and I swear it balled its tiny fists and stomped its foot but begrudgingly returned to the other figure.

They walked on with the same slowness they’d moved with before, almost like they were trudging through mud that was up to their knees.

And then I woke up.

I’ll never know whether they were ghosts, demons, or figments of my imagination, and honestly? I don’t want to. It’s not for me to know.

But Happy Halloween to all! May you enjoy these last hours of Spooky Season.

Maybe next year I’ll tell you the even scarier run-in Petra and I had with a black dog that was definitely not a dog.