The most eerie place to be is not under the bed, not locked in the dark, not your hallways at night. It's right inside your head. And we are forced there every night when we get tired. My eyelids are beginning to feel like two large bricks. My head yearns to lean against the wall beside me, but I jerk it back up. I can't see what my mind will come up with if I go to sleep, it knows my worst fears, after all. I've been doing this for hours, splashing the cold water in my face, violently shaking my head like a wet dog, anything to stay awake. I've been waiting forever for this dreadful night to blow over, but it just won't. The moon taunts me, maliciously grinning at me through my curtains. It waits for me to sleep, it wants to force me into my head again.

“Here comes the sleepy head.” Some of the students giggled… But, I didn't care. I was used to it for a long time. Well, I was nicknamed “The Sleepy Head” in school since my childhood. That was not a lie since I would always doze off in my classes. Dozing off everywhere was a normal thing in my life. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't stop it. I tried sleeping early, waking up early, having power naps in the daytime, and so many things. But none of them would make any sense. Habitually, I knew I would fall asleep in almost every class except the ones we participated in super actively like doing some papers or group activities. But, it was not something to be happy or enjoy… IT WAS REAL DEPRESSION!!!!!!!!!!! I was very much frustrated in my life because of my condition. Later when I grew up, I searched about it on google and found out that my symptoms exactly matched the disease called “Narcolepsy”. But, a lot of people did not believe that excessive sleeping was a DISEASE!!!!!!!! Most of them told me that I was not attentive in classes or I was staying up too late. BUT, I knew from my experience that no matter how much I slept, it would not make any difference. My life was depressing. Inside, I was all torn up. I cried for hours and hours being unable to cope with it. WHY I WAS THIS UNLUCKY????? FROM ALL THE PEOPLE IN THE WORLD, 1 IN 2000, WHY WOULD I GET THIS DISEASE?????? I wanted to be normal. I wanted to study till late at night like my friends... I wanted to sleep less during exam days to cover up my syllabus. But, I had to sleep, no matter how much was left to study… Also, mental stress would make my symptoms worse which made me sleepier when an exam was nearer. One day, I decided that I needed to change my life. I needed to rise from the ashes and face all the challenges like a phoenix bird. I found some youtube channels about narcolepsy. There were a lot of stories about people in the world who had the same condition as mine. It gave me a lot of confidence and made me believe that I was not alone. Some of them had worse experiences than mine. So I held up my nerve. I wanted to show them that I was not down. "HATERS" were my best motivation. So, I studied hard. My condition kept bothering me more and more. But, I didn't care. I had only one dream MY LIFETIME DREAM!!!!!!!!!! It was to become a DOCTOR. IT WAS STRONGER THAN NARCOLEPSY. I found various strategies myself to cope with it. Somehow I managed to study well and become a topper in my class. I passed my O/L s and A/L s with flying colours… Then I entered the best medical faculty in the country... There, I got to know more about my disease. Since I was independent, I went to a specialist myself and explained her about my condition. She immediately diagnosed my condition and gave me some medicine… I am still using them and I am happy to say that my condition is getting better now!!!!!!!!!!! Ah, I forgot to say, A few months ago, I graduated from university and got my appointment as a doctor….. CURRENTLY, I AM WORKING HAPPILY IN MY DREAM OCCUPATION…….. :) :) :) THANKS A LOT FOR READING MY STORY

Alright, write about anything. Write about my boyfriend, music, career, job, my favorite place... I don't like writing about me. At least not anymore. I saw the power it held. Saw how it could hurt and anger others. The last time I wrote something, it really hurt someone and I haven't been able to write since. Scared of reactions. Scared that people would take my words the wrong way again, or the right way. I write to release. Release images, stories, and ideas that get stuck in my head and placed on repeat until I drive myself crazy and let it out. When everything is finally gone my mind can just easy back in its place and enjoy everything else that is going on, for a minute. Early mornings I can't get myself out of bed most of the time, not so much because I am tired. But more of, I want to finish my dream, my story. I want to see the rest of it, see where it goes. Because when I wake up it will all be gone and I'm here again. It may be a beautiful day, but lately, my mind is screaming something different. I feel collapsed, unable to mend or bring myself back together. And my mind, it loves it, it feeds off of it. It wants more. It doesn't want me to write, doesn't want me to work, or heal. It just wants me to sit and contemplate the unthinkable, goes as far as begging me to just try it. "You will feel so much better." Well I have gotten better, in a sense. I know that these new thoughts are not my own. They are the creation of this ovoid that has cratered itself inside my mind, inside my brain. It's what is causing all this new pain, and more. I want it gone, I want these voices and the pain gone. I'm supposed to have it removed, but to what cost? The possibility to never have a family, loss of feelings and sensations. Sight. I may be being selfish but, I want to fight. I want to win, push out those voices that are manifesting into full-blown figures. It would make things a lot easier for me and my loved ones if I just got it removed. They wouldn't have to see my panic attacks, personality, and mood changes. I wouldn't have to see their faces when they look at their daughter/sister/partner unrecognizably as she suffers and changes. I could actually work. I could remember who Jane was and possibly meet her again. I just want to try, I want to fight. So as we see these specialists and they tell us what to do. As I cry and pat myself to sleep at night. I will keep these dreams and stories and try to write. Escape from these thoughts and when I can't, tell them not today. There is too much I have to do for me today. And hope that I will be able to be who I once was and more.

Sleepwalking or sleep talking, which makes a person who is asleep appear to be awake is the opposite of another sleep abnormality, sleep paralysis, which inhibits the body of a person who is awake. As someone who experiences both, I can tell you they both bring terror in different ways. Sleepwalking or sleep talking, it's not as hilarious as it often appears in movies and sitcoms. For every person you see perching over the edge of a cliff or walking into the bedroom of someone inappropriate, there are hundreds more sleepwalkers who get stuck in the corner of their bedroom. The most dangerous thing I do when I'm sleepwalking is to stand up on the bed and knock my head on the overhead light. But sleepwalking or sleep talking can be a distressing wakeup call to bedfellows at 3 a.m. I'm usually yelling and standing and pointing to something that I'm sure has mysteriously appeared in the room. I once nearly gave a friend I was traveling with a heart attack when I jumped up and bellowed, “What's that?” We were in Costa Rica sleeping in a room with an open-door policy to geckos, iguanas, and stray cats. “Where?” she asked, popping out of her slumber. “That monkey!” I pointed. “Where?” “There,” I said, pointing in the direction of a lamp. “Where?” Over there, wearing the hat!” Certain there was no monkey wearing a hat, she returned to her sleep after her heartbeat returned to normal. The next morning, she mentioned the monkey. I didn't have any recollection, as I usually didn't. Sleepwalking and sleep talking are kind that way. The panic usually lands on the other person. But sleep paralysis is not that kind. Sleep paralysis, where someone is awake but unable to move occurs when the mind wakes up before the body gains its ability to move again. Paralysis is a normal part of REM sleep, designed to keep the body still during dreaming to protect it, which is precisely what does not happen when someone sleepwalks or sleep talks. Dreams from REM sleep can carry over into this paralyzed moment causing waking dream-like hallucinations. For me, it begins with a dream in which I am trying to wake up. Someone is holding my eyes shut or sitting on top of me so I can't. Recently it was my husband, who resembled Philip Seymour Hoffman. To make matters worse, Philip Seymour Husband was forcing me to wear a winter coat even though I was also inside a sleeping bag. I could feel the heat radiating off me, and I told him that I wanted to wake up, but he held the sleeping bag over me and I could feel my temperature rising. I couldn't move to take it off and that meant I couldn't wake up. We struggled until I realized he was the real Philip Seymour Hoffman, not my husband. Since I figured out the riddle, he let me out. I could move again and opened my eyes. For a moment I felt relief, from the heat and the inability to wake up, sure I was physically kicking off my real heavy quilt. But my joy only lasted a minute because I realized that I was still hot. This meant that I was only awake in my dream and not in real life. The scene started again. I told Philip Seymour Hoffman that I wanted to wake up. He smothered me again. I couldn't wake up and was burning up. Then, before I combusted, he let me out of the sleeping bag. I could move my arms and legs and open my eyes. The relief at not being stuck in slumber forever felt almost like a shot of adrenaline. But it only lasted a second when I realized I was still asleep. The dream repeated so many times I lost count. It's not always Philip Seymour Hoffman who keeps me in dreamland. Sometimes it's an unknown ghoul who is holding my eyes shut. I struggle again and again and win, finally opening my eyes to the real world. But then I come to understand that I am still trapped in the dream. No matter how hard I fight I don't have the physical power to leave the dream world behind. I try to open my eyes, but they will not move. I try and lift my hands, but I have no control. I try to roll my shoulders so that I will flip over, but my body does not respond. Defeated, I fall back asleep. Hope returns each time I see myself opening my eyes in my dream followed by desperation when I realize I'm stuck in sleep. Unlike sleepwalking and sleep talking, where I talk, but do not know that I am doing it, I try to scream to let someone know that I am trapped, but my voice does not work. I cannot move my mouth to get the words out and I don't have the mechanics to speak anymore. The solution is easy, though unknowable as it occurs. If I stop fighting and go back to sleep, the sleep cycle would continue, paralysis would eventually go away, and I would wake up. When I eventually claw myself to alertness, the relief is as great as I imagined it would be, but the fear remains. I am groggy from waking during a disrupted sleep cycle and exhausted from the struggle. Unlike sleepwalking or talking, I do not want to risk going back to sleep and into the place of no escape.

In the summer of 2002 the neighbour hood kids ( brither and sister, ana and nils,) includeing my self (we were the only kids in the neighbour hood at the time) would go to my living room after a trip to the video store and a swim to watch a marathon of the x files. We wiuld spend all day watching the x files. This is were my interest of forensics, forensic pathology and law enforcement. I did not know i want ti be an fbi agent or a coroner then soon languages got into the mix particularily russian and japanese. That was before high school when my big mouth father opened his mouth and said that i was ugyer, tibetan and himalayan. Now i am looking to learn tibetan. To this day because of events on the internet i have awoken the forensic pathologist so i can speak for the women who where not as lucky to avoid creeps and died because of them.

I want to go to never land..... an no I am not suicidal; just very tired and sleepy. I slept like a log but it's one of those days where I just want to fucking sleep. Like in Stephen King's sleeping beauties but in reality. This is what the fucking winter does to you when you hate the cold and have to take meds for CPTSD. I hate the meds. It's not that I hate the cold but there is nothing to take pictures of fucking flowers, which is a trigger to me. I say I don't hate the cold because a few years ago I , fed up with how people with PTSD were looked at decided to climb Everest. This has beeen fermenting since my diagnosis in grade 11 (high school). And when my mother found out she had lung cancer I want to climb K2 for cancer research and another mountain for survivors of sex crimes (lets just say if you are a female you need to take extra care on the Internet. ) the mountaineering bug bit me in high school.... now I have reasons. But for now I shall nap.