A tired intruder

January 25, 2013

I woke up at around 4am. I was in bed, laying on my right side, facing the wall, with my back to the door, when I realized someone was coming into my bedroom, a man. I heard him shuffling his feet as he walked slowly on the carpet, and then stop and let out a long, slow yawn.

As he paused at the doorway, I turned my head and looked around the room. All the furniture was in the correct position, and the blinds were open the way I open them at night; I knew I was awake. Laying in bed, I became afraid, panicking.

Then I realized I had something in my right hand, something like a pen, but a little longer. I didn't know what it was, but I thought I could use it to help defend myself. To take him on, I'd have to roll over, free myself from the sheet and blanket, get out of bed, and face him.

As I mustered up the courage and forced myself to roll over and get up, I woke up. I was still laying in bed, on my right side, facing the wall.


This wasn't a lucid dream, it was one of those other events I don't have a name for, where you're in some other world, a parallel universe. In retrospect, the man who walked in obviously wasn't coming in to kill me. In fact, his movements reminded me of someone I know well -- me.

The fear in this state of mind is always like this; to say the least it's heightened, out of control, with no rational filter. Of course having someone come into your room in the middle of the night would be a scary thing, but when he stops to yawn loudly, a person thinking rationally wouldn't have nearly as much fear as I had in this state. When events like this happen a lot I can control the fear, but when they happen only occasionally, the fear gets the best of me, like this.

As for the setup, here's what I've been up to lately:

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