Firstly, I stupidly allowed my thoughts to wander over to the terrifying realm of "Paranormal Activity." Now, I'm not irrational enough to actively be frightened of a demon dragging me out of bed, but running scenes through your head can still freak you out. Enough to be too scared to change my bed position despite huge discomfort.
Of course, every sound made by the house or floating in from outside made me jump. And then I started thinking about burglars and how I don't care if they rob me, as long as I can sleep through it. Then of course i remembered my cameras were in the loungeroom, prime target for any burglars that might happen to call.
Then, when I stopped freaking out and was about to fall asleep, I felt my hair move and my scalp shiver as if something was crawling on my head. It felt like something had crawled from the start of my hair line to my crown. That something felt like it was quite large, with a lot of legs. Now, immediately, I assumed I had a cockroach crawling through my hair. Bad business indeed. I have an irrational fear of cockroaches. I think it's their legs but anyway, as small and pathetic as they are, I was petrified by the thought that there was one on me.
Cockroach, as it is and should be. Dead.
Cockroach, magnified by my immagination.
He's planning to murder your entire family.
Right after he hacks into your facebook and lays eggs in your hair.
So that was me. Lying there. Too afraid to move. At all. My heart was pounding so loud that I began to fear that would somehow disturb the cockroach which then made my heart pound more. See, I have a horrid, disabling fear of having cockroaches on me in my sleep. So much so, that when I'm awake, any movement of my hair, or soft scuttling noise drives me to this paranoia and fear that has me pinned to my bed, terrified to have the thing on me but too terrified to get it off, because then it might get on my hand or under my shirt or lost somewhere in the folds of my bed and I might have to feel it's disgusting scuttly legs scuttling all over me. Or, worse still, it could be the worst kind of cockroach. The kind that come out in summer. The kind that's impossibly large, impossibly black and as soon as you work up the courage to fetch the bug spray and aim, it confirms your worst fears. The mother fucker can fly. There isn't much in this world that terrifies me more than a flying cockroach. In my room. On me. Except maybe clowns...
Me, but black, attempting to fight off the horrid beast only to discover its secret weapon of flight.
(...Possibly a scene from "That's so Raven"?)
I lay there, not moving, for ten minutes. It felt like hours. My brain was doing a vicious cycle. "I'm sure it was just my hair moving." "For so long? It was a cockroach. Or, I could be lucky, it could be a poisonous spider" "But why has it stopped moving, then?" "Maybe it's laying eggs..." "Maybe it already crawled off me? If I just shift my head ever so slightly, to see if anything moves..." "Oh god I can feel it's weight, it's still there. Don't move" "But now it's on me? I can't exactly jsut ignore it and go to sleep" "Well you could..." "No. I should just shake my head wildly and it'll be flung accross the room!" "Or it'll fall in your bed...." "..."
At this point, I got desperate. Finally, my brain came to a new possible solution. A beacon of hope. My sister, asleep in the next room. Pathetically, too scared to raise my voice above a whisper, I "called out to her" (read: whispered to noone but myself). "Steeeepppph...... Steeeeeppppphhhh....... Steeeeepppphhh?!"
No reply. I was on my own. I lay there, motionless. Torturing myself for a while longer. Rethinking my position on marriage. Perhaps I could have a prenup stating that my husband's only duty was to defend me from 6 legged beasts? Eventually I had to admit it. I couldn't just lie there and wait for the thing to move again. What if ti crawled on my face? Or down my neck? Or IN MY EAR? I had to do something. Slowly, I shifted my body so I was lifted slightly off the pillow. Then, after a moments hesitation, I simultaneously jumped upright and violently shook my head around like a total loon. I scraped at my hair, in case the violent head motion wasn't enough to dislodge the thing. Thankfully, not scuttly legs wrapped themselves around my fingers.
I jumped over to my light and switched it on. I saw nothing. I shook my head again, just in case. I ran my fingers through my hair again, just in case. I searched my bed. I looked around the room at large. Nothing. I sat there for a while, still shaking, my leg muscles aching from being tensed up for so long. Still nothing. I grabbed a book- "Last Chance Saloon" by Marienne Keyes. Good, funny chick lit. But with real themes, to properly consume my attention. I pressed play on the CD player. I needed to pee but was too scared to leave my room and enter the dark scary hallway. I left the light on.
Eventually, some time between 2 and 3am, I fell asleep. I woke up at 7:30am. The light was still on. I realised I'd slept with the light on. I'm sure I would have jumped into bed with my mother if I hadn't been too scared to leave my well lit, cockroach, demon and burglar free room. I am 18 years old. And the thought of a cockroach crawling on my head in the darkness scared the nights sleep out of me. What's more, the thought of the roach was far more frightening than burglars or invisible demons.
I am officially neurotic.
untill something else interesting happens, like further signs of my descent into full blown insanity due to a queer combination of maddening boredom and crippling apathy