There’s a place between conscious and unconscious. Very seldom do people travel there, because it’s not very inviting. The whole physical body falls asleep, but the mind, well the mind resists. The mind holds you back, reaches for consciousness, strives for control, but the body doesn’t respond. You lay there, trying to move, struggling to gain some fragment of power over the limbs, but they are fast asleep. 

That’s when the panic sets in. The idea that you’re possessed, maybe. Something is inside of you, something is taking over your body, cutting the axons that lead your neurons to your muscles. It’s some sort of demon, possibly, so you beg God to let you back into your limbs. It’s a Sunday morning so your mind offers to go to church, “Just let me wake up, and I’ll go,” you beg. 

A half hour goes by, your arm still rests across your torso despite your efforts to pull it free. You can feel it, you can feel what it feels, but you can’t get it to budge. You see it moving in your head, you’re awake and your eyes are open. The arm remains still and your eyes see only the insides to eye lids.

It’s the final push of desperation that always sets you free. That final struggle that, from within, looks like a mad man shimmying vigorously against his straight jacket. From outside, nothing. It ends with a simple movement. Those eyes that tried to rip free of the lids with every effort open slowly and shyly, like a normal person awaking from a restful sleep. The arm moves slightly, realization hits, then the body jolts up with abuse of control over limbs. Then you lay there, wide awake, afraid to submit yourself to rest anytime soon.