I don't know if you've ever experienced this. I have. And it's scarier than any nightmare I've ever had. Although I should qualify that by saying I rarely remember what I dream about.
But I'm not talking about dreams here. I'm talking about what occurs sometimes before I dream. You know, in that period of time between being awake and drifting off to la-la land.
I had to look it up on Wikipedia and the term for that transitional period is hypnagogia.
Some nights I think I'm channeling Stephen King, Dean Koontz and H.P. Lovecraft all rolled into one. As I start to drift off my mind races, going off in several different directions, kind of like twilight ADD, trying to process the scariest of thoughts. I certainly wouldn't come up with them during the day time, nor likely dream about them in my deepest slumbers.
But they come to me in that transitional time between wakefulness and sleep. Involuntarily.
Like, oh, I don't know, sticking a pencil in my eyeball. Gory car, plane, train crashes involving loved ones. Leaping to my death off a bridge or tall building. A visit to an alien spaceship - probing optional. Murder and mayhem. Spontaneous combustion. The earth exploding and other similar apocalyptic cataclysms haunt me. And of course, the more bizarre and horrifying they are the more I have and the harder it is to sleep. Some nights this "transitional" period will go on for hours.
But what causes them? Restless Leg Syndrome? Inane Facebook comments? Indigestion? A late evening piece of chocolate cake? Too much caffeine? The late night news?
Well, let's see what I'm influenced by during my waking hours.
Ah, a huge earthquake and many after shocks rocked Japan and blew up a nuclear plant.
Um, Lindsay Lohan could be going to jail.
Uh, Mike Huckabee crapped all over Natalie Portman and her unmarried approach to parenthood.
Oh, the Warlocks and tigers and Adonises, oh my, are pissed at Charlie Sheen. Nevertheless the guy's mounted something called "My Violent Torpedo of Truth/Defeat Is Not An Option Tour" and it sold out in 18 minutes!
Mel Gibson pled no contest to beating the crap out of his ex-wife and skipped jail time.
Well, well. Monica Lewinsky still loves Bill.
That guy's still hangin' on to power in Libya and nobody seems to know yet how to properly spell his name.
And the National Hockey League seems to have become the medical clearing house for the largest supply of organ donations from former players for brain research.
I thought the stuff I dreamed up was bad.
It's no wonder I can't sleep at night.