Scribblings

Old Hag Syndrome

It?s been over 25 years since I had a series of frightening dreams. I was so scared about them, I consulted a doctor and a psychologist to see if I was losing my mind. I would wake up in the middle of the night, my eyes just suddenly popping open. I couldn?t move even though I had this terrifying sensation of danger. I couldn?t turn my head nor lift my hand nor my legs. I couldn?t scream. All of a sudden, I?d feel what I thought to be hands holding my shoulders down. Sometimes it felt like someone sat on my chest. Almost all the time, I began to panic because I knew if I didn?t start moving, that thing was going to kill me.

Just as suddenly as it would start, it would stop. I didn?t feel a gradually return of movement. One moment it wasn?t there and the next it was and I would pop out of the bed, shaking. Of course, no one else was in the room. Nothing else was there either, although I felt like it must be some kind of malevolent spirit.

I had about a half dozen of these dreams and I couldn?t stand it anymore. I went to the doctor, and he said it was probably a manifestation of panic attack in the night. He said I should see a psychologist for an evaluation. So I did and the psychologist agreed with the doctor. I was probably dreaming something that was bringing on panic attacks. He prescribed a sleeping pill for me to take temporarily and suggested I go to bed with a clear mind. If I was worried about anything, I should write it down. This way my mind wouldn?t try to deal with it in a dream.

After I saw the doctors, the strange phenomena stopped happening to me and I totally forgot about them until today. Somewhere on the ?Net I saw a link to a story about ?sleep paralysis.? I saw those words and immediately flashed back. I wondered if that was what happened to me all those years ago. This is the link:

Sleep Paralysis

It was so wild! It sounded exactly what had happened to me, and then I remembered something else.

My mother had her own terrifying experience even more years ago.

My grandmother had broken her leg and needed round-the-clock care for several weeks. My grandfather was sick with diabetes and wasn?t the most supportive person in the world. The responsibility fell on my mother and my aunt, the two daughters. My aunt said she?d take the weekends if my mother would take the weekdays. It wasn?t a fair division of responsibility and my mom knew it. She?d sleep on the sofa in the living room of my grandparents? cottage. If my grandma needed to go potty, my mom would bring the bedpan. If my grandma was hungry or thirsty, my mom would bring refreshments.

One night, she woke up around 2 or 3 in the morning. She couldn?t move. She could see a light moving outside the window of the kitchen. It was drawing closer and closer, and she felt she needed to get up and tell my grandparents ? but she couldn?t move. Well, the light came in the kitchen window and slowly approached my mom. She was totally scared, knowing this was an evil thing and that she had to get away from it.

As it came into the living room, the light turned into a detached arm?nothing else, just a shoulder, arm and hand. Mom said that it was a man?s arm and he was wearing a flannel shirt, rolled up to the midarm. The arm was bent at the elbow and the fingers curled into a fist. It moved closer and closer to her, and she knew it was going to kill her.

When it was almost too late, Mom said she felt an exploding sensation as something shot out of her chest and flew up to do battle with the arm. The force and the arm collided, disappeared, and then my mom could move again.

Mom told my grandparents the next morning and they said she?d just had a nightmare. So did everyone else she talked to and so she gave up. She didn?t think it was a nightmare though. I found out about it because as a young adult, I happened on a yellowed, folded piece of paper. I opened it and read it. My mother had been writing to Jeanne Dixon, the psychic, and she?d recounted everything. She said she believed what popped out of her chest was her soul and that it did battle with a devil.

Well, that made my hair stand up on end.

I asked her about it. Her mood turned grim. She said she?d finally realized what the ?dream? was all about. She always it was a calling down of a curse on my family. . She said that after she had the dream, we?d had nothing but bad luck since. We were cursed, she said, because my dad didn?t believe in God.

That sounded pretty wild to me so I asked her what made her think so. She recognized the flannel shirt, she told me. It belonged to my dad and it must be that his was the disembodied arm that threatened her. My father was the evil demon trying to destroy her life and it was the spirit within her that saved her.

Wild, huh?

But now I think my mother experienced this ?old hag syndrome?. I wonder if she ever thinks about it anymore? Maybe I should print the article and send it to her ?

Random Question of the Day:

Today is "National Handwriting Day" in honor of John Hancock's birthday. How is your handwriting?

I used to have really nice handwriting. When I was a kid, I felt really proud when I began using cursive and people would compliment me. When we moved from NY to Maryland, I?d write long letters to my Grandma and she said it was easy to write them because my handwriting was so clear.

All that changed after I developed repetitive motion injuries in my right hand. I have to move very slowly and methodically to make sure my handwriting is legible, and my thumb and wrist begins hurting within just a few minutes. I don?t like writing messily so now I just type 99% of the time.