At certain intervals in childhood, I was really bad at sleeping. I’d watch the clock as hours paced by until it was 2 or 3 in the morning, my brain racing, envisioning the morning when I’d be too tired to move. I’d stare at the shadows on my ceiling until they became ghosts that wanted to suck me into hell, or form the menacing face of Kris Kristofferson (I was terrified of him as a child). I’d maybe watch an infomercial.
A bad scene, and it made 6th grade kind of a bear, among other, more universal factors (e.g., adolescent insecurity, braces, and soul diminishingly bad hair cuts). When I was able to calm down a little in the ensuing years, sleep became a lot easier. But now sometimes when I’m really nervous or keyed up about something, the insomnia returns.
No big deal, unless you just watched a marathon of the Paranormal Activity movies.
I’ve seen each of them three times at this point, so it is getting a little easier to live with. Now, I spend as much time wondering why Katie would date a jerk like Micha as I do obsessing about the creepy stuff.
But when you’re awake and staring at the ceiling at 2am, nothing’s worse than imagining your foot being grabbed by some invisible rage-machine named Toby. Or that basement…eeeh, that basement.
Also, the half-waking dreams wherein I have to care for a demonically possessed Andre the Giant in a found-footage style documentary, I can do without.
My absolute favorite is having to pee but being too afraid to get up and go to the bathroom. All for the sake of entertainment! This is the consequence of bad decision making.
Unfortunately, I’m powerless. I’ll keep seeing the movies and terrifying myself. When there’s yet another prequel, probably with silent movie found footage starring the guy from The Artist, I’ll see that one too. Also, I’ll be stocking up on melatonin.