Last Night

At around eleven o'clock last night we headed to bed. The boys were in their room settling in for the night, excited about the immanent snow. I crawled into bed beside my husband. I was already feeling tense & that feeling heightened as I reached over & turned off the lamp. The darkness was all too familiar & I mentally prepared myself-- determined to sleep & take back control of my life. The traffic that passes our house all night was still & I was left alone to think. It wasn't long before I could tell that the boys were sound asleep in the next room & that I heard my husband's breathing settle into the rhythmic ins & outs of sleep. My eyes adjusted to the darkness & I thought back to a time in my childhood when the familiar shapes of day became the monsters of night. Have I reverted back to the same mentality of a five year old? Why didn't I buy NyQuil or something instead of falling for the old milk & bread routine? Why couldn't I sleep?

The clock ticked away. My eyes drifted across the room to the digital clock that was a blur of red amidst the grays & blacks of night. A big truck roared through town slinging light around the room & forcing my eyes to focus. It was 12:30am. Feeling like a prisoner in my own mind I reached for my iPod & decided to write for awhile. By the time I finished venting my frustration to an electronic device, I rolled over & willed myself to sleep. No matter how hard I tried, sleep was just not within reach. My body was exhausted from many sleepless nights, but my mind was alert, on-guard, and ready for whatever would happen. The room was peaceful, too peaceful really. It felt like the calm before the storm.

Today as  I look back at the "note" that I typed in my iPod, I see things about my mindset that really disturb me. I wrote about how I was warned that these situations feed on fear & that if that is the case that I might as well be Thanksgiving Dinner. It seemed that no matter how hard I tried to calm myself that I was falling victim to my mind & my terror at the thought of being surrounded by Spirits.

It wasn't until 3am that my fears & tensions were validated. I was lying with my eyes squeezed tight, my hand on my husbands arm (I realized a few nights ago that I feel safer when I have some sort of physical contact with him throughout the night), & my mind wandering through the events of the weekend's investigation. I held my breath as the unfortunately familiar sensation of being touched crept across my leg & then my back & next my neck. I shivered & shimmied across the middle of the king sized bed & into his territory. I didn't want to wake my husband & convinced myself that I was letting my imagination run wild again. I couldn't help but envy him... Sleeping away like he didn't have a care in the world. For the next hour I was touched several more times & KNEW that I wasn't alone. I heard a child scream & sat up in bed. "Did you hear that? Did someone scream?!?" He drowsily told me that I was just imagining things & I again talked myself out of believing my own ears. Tucked deep within the covers I dodged pokes & touches until I finally fell asleep-- exhausted from the whole experience. The last time I remember looking at the clock it was 4:58am.

Beep beep beep beep beep... It was 5:15am. The digital clock shrieked, informing my husband that it was time for work. He got up & contacted work to see if he had to go in or not. The earth was blanketed in white when he pulled the shade aside.  As he headed toward the clock to press snooze again, there was an undeniable sound in front of the closet doors. He of course tried to recreate it to no avail. It was a sharp noise unlike anything I had ever heard before.  It came from the foot of the bed-- right where the "portal" had been (or is again if you ask me). After recording the event through a video diary, he settled in to sleep some more.  I of course had exceeded my nightly sleep allowance of seventeen whole minutes, & proceeded to lie awake & ponder the noise. For the next hour I hopped in & out of bed pressing snooze. When would the sun come up? If I could just stay in bed until the sun was up, I knew I would be okay. Finally around 7:15 am the room began to perk up & come to life again. The ominous shapes of night again became chairs, pictures, vanities, & laundry.  I felt a little bit more like myself again & headed through the hall, past the sink, & into the upstairs living area to watch the news & escape the weight of the bedroom.

Luckily I was able to nap on the couch some. The comfort of morning light, snow, & the weather man's voice coaxed me into a fitful yet much needed nap. I am still confused about what last night's activity means. Did my inescapable fear allow that same spirit to reenter our bedroom & reclaim his territory? Was Argo back? Is he something to fear or is he just trying to calm me down by touching me? I swear sometimes I wish that the question mark had never been invented!