Sleep Paralysis

In the fall of 2016, I was making my way slowly towards Alaska to deliver a car for a friend and made a stop at Mesa Verde National Park. I had heard a bit of the history before as the place where the ancestral pueblo people made their home hundreds of years ago. It had been occupied for centuries until conditions finally turned on this oasis, ...or perhaps people just found greener pastures. Just navigating the paths that people created lifetime after lifetime of human weathering, you can feel both that isolation from the rest of the world and connection with the people who called it home centuries ago.

I camped on the lower mesa that night. I was able to make out the milky way thanks to the darkest skies you've ever seen even. On many nights in the high desert, the stars shine through the clear and dry air for you to see the quiet majesty of the milky way galaxy across the night sky. To see that vastness both humbles and reminds you of what you're connected to across time and space.

After a long evening gazing up, I went to bundle myself up in my trusty tent for the night. Long days of traveling through the endless monotony of West Texas can wear on your patience but do wonders for people who otherwise need sleeping pills. My thoughts quickly wandered off into sleep as I listened to the quiet sounds of the other campers nearby rummaging through tents and settling in while the wind blew through the mesa grasses amongst the chirps of crickets.

What felt like moments later, I was summoned back to consciousness by noises surrounding the tent. It was that absolute darkest part of the night, that time where there's no noise out besides wind and the elements, where you can hear your blood vessels when you need to. I had a feeling I was going to need that. I'm no stranger to the javelinas, raccoons, and possums that can descend upon you at night camping in Texas, but there was something unnatural about this.

Usually, there would be nothing worth getting my ass out of the warm cocoon I've made myself in the dead of night, especially after the drive. This was something else, however, something that was not searching for food. I focused on the sounds listening for anything recognizable. At that point, I would have even taken the sneaky yips of raccoons raiding my camp kitchen. I tried to close my eyes and lull myself back to sleep. That's when I heard footsteps just outside the tent. As quickly as I could still rationalize that it might still be a deer or something out there, poking around, that's when I heard the sound of nylon rasping. I opened my eyes a smidge to see a finger dragging along the side of the tent.

I had that immediate urge to rationalize what was happening, keep myself grounded in reality. As I watched the finger grazing across the tent fabric round a corner by my feet, I tried to shift away in my sleeping bag and start to unzip and reach for a flashlight quietly. As soon as I mustered the courage to move ahead, I realized to my horror that my body was not obeying me. I suddenly felt trapped in a way where I felt this might be how my story finally ends.

It was absolute silence; all I could hear were my heartbeat and the sound of nearby breathing under the cacophony of my thoughts. This situation had to be a dream. It had to be. None of this makes sense, so it can't be true; there's no way around it. I repeated this over and over to wake myself like in so many other dreams that go awry. It saved me over and over from the teeth falling out of my mouth in the mirror. I opened my eyes and looked up at the ceiling of the tent, rolling gently in the breeze. Another object started to push through the nylon fabric, but it wasn't a finger. 

As it pushed further and further, it took shape as a face with a mouth wide open as if it were screaming bloody murder. It stretched further and further, filling out the features, ...the nose, ...the chin, ...the glasses? I don’t know how exactly but I recognized that face as my own. If I could physically move, I would have made that same expression just then, but I could only sit there and watch it for the longest time. I couldn't take much more, so I closed my eyes and began to pray silently.

I could hear for the longest time the breathing of whatever was out there. It was the slow and labored breath of someone who chased down and found what they were searching for. My thoughts raced, alternating between promises to god if I make it out of this and visions of what could be in store for me shortly. I was grateful for the people I've had in my life until that day and meditated on those thoughts to give me that last bit of peace I wanted before facing this night. That's when I noticed the deafening silence once again. I drew breath again as if I had just emerged from the deepest of dives. It took a moment for me to catch my breath and put together my thoughts of what just happened.

I crept silently to unzip the tent and take a peek and make sure that there wasn't something out there. As stupid as this was, there was something undeniable about the urge. I had to know what was on the other side of that fabric, but as soon as I touched the zipper and lowered it halfway, I pulled myself back into reality. This wasn't a dream anymore, so there wasn't anything to chase into the night, I reasoned. I took a few more controlled breathes to restore my heart rate, breathing in the chilly mountain air, and peered around the meadow in the valley between the upper mesa walls. 

It was a chilly night with low clouds that obscured the moon at times as it rose from the horizon. That struck a balance that allowed me for the moment to see the sky in rare form driving home the deep of the darkness. Just looking up for long enough to absorb yourself in the stars can make me feel dizzy. It was like if I wasn't careful, I could just float up into the infinite to see the majesty of it all up close in person. Returning to earth after taking a moment to look around and take in the view of the low moonlight bouncing off the walls of one side and creating a glowing reflection that projected onto the valley of grass and gnarled pinion pines.

It shook me back out of that moment of terror into crisp reality, but as I reached to the floor to the zipper, something caught my eye. I saw many footprints in the dirt outside; bare human feet, hundreds of them circling the tent, and I beamed the flashlight everywhere else. I couldn't believe it. For one thing, walking barefoot out here is challenging since there are only sun-baked rock-face pathways amongst copious amounts of wild desert shrubs and stinging insects.

What didn't make sense was that the footprints all led to my tent. They approached it and encircled it, but yet, there weren't any footprints leading away. It didn't make sense to me, so unless this guy walked backward or could fly off, he should still be here. I couldn't help myself. I wanted to know who was messing with me in the night. I mean, to be honest, I was still under the impression that this still might all be a dream. It was surreal in that I was almost stepping outside myself as if it were a movie, where I wanted to see what would happen next, where the plot gets juicy. It was that fearless mindset you can only ever achieve in the confines of the dreamland. 

Somehow, that crisp mountain air calmed my nerves as I wandered out into the dimly moonlit night. It seemed so clear and quiet that I had to stop and study the moonlight's dramatic shadows across the desert valley floor's stonewalls and short spindly junipers. I followed the path from the tent to the parking lot, checking the pathway for barefoot prints. I could help but stop and take in the low summer moon deep into the night.

It also allowed me to hear the low hum coming from above the ridge that surrounded the campground. I walked past the road and up an arroyo to see if I could find that sound or at least gain a vantage point. The noise got exponentially louder as I passed the boulders at the intersection with another runoff stream. Moonlight cast upon the rocky pathway up the side of the next level of the mesa. The path ended with a clearing among the trees with an object at the center.

From afar, it was a black rectangle floating steadily above the ground. The air flowed from the rectangle, somehow driven by the concussive power of living thumping breathing bass line wave emanating from it, low but energetic enough to feel the air pulsing from the source. The phenomenon moved the trees and warped the surrounding air as if an invisible ring of fire were surrounding it.

I couldn't believe how loud it became as I went up higher. I first approached it slowly until I was a few yards away. The object was a rectangle a few feet wide and twice as tall, but it was not strictly black. It had a texture of speckled white dispersed through it. I had to look closer to understand the nonsense this dream would be about; I couldn't help myself.

I had gotten only a few away at this point, and the object looked like a mirror angled towards the stars. But this wasn't a regular mirror. As I walked around it, the exact configuration of the stars moved alone with me but oddly. It looked like stars were realigning themselves as I walked but not as if they were on the outside of a surface.

I was perplexed and walked a little bit closer despite the deafening volume coming from inside this object. I looked deeply into the abyss to study the constellations in wonder. The closer I looked, the more detail was revealed as I gazed into its complexity, my fear subsided, and I found myself inches away, mouth agape, pondering its significance. I caught a glimpse of something I recognized while peering into its depths at alternative angles that broke the spell cast upon me. I was staring into the abyss, and yet I was starring back at myself.

"What the fuck," I saw myself mouthing back.

To Be Continued….