Sleep paralysis... The ultimate "Wait, am I dying? Nope, just my brain being a drama queen" experience. If you've had the pleasure of waking up, unable to move, while feeling like a ghostly choir is rehearsing ominous chants in your bedroom, welcome to the club! It's a club no one asked to join, but here we are, paralysed and petrified.
Let’s delve into the mysterious, terrifying, and frankly fascinating world of sleep paralysis. Don’t worry — we’ve added a generous dollop of humour to make this creepy phenomenon slightly less horrifying. I’ve got you, bro.
what even is sleep paralysis?
In the simplest terms, sleep paralysis is when your brain wakes up, but your body is like, "Nah, mate, still asleep here." It happens when you’re transitioning between sleep and wakefulness, and your muscles are temporarily paralysed to stop you from acting out your dreams (1). It’s a safety mechanism, really—except when it malfunctions and leaves you lying there like a petrified log.
The experience usually lasts a few seconds to a few minutes, but when you’re in the thick of it, time feels like it’s slowed to an Inception-style crawl. Oh, and to make things extra special, your brain often throws in some hallucinatory spice, like shadowy figures or whispering voices. Cheers, brain. Creep.
the symptoms: more fun than a haunted house
Here’s what sleep paralysis might feel like, and yes, it’s pretty awful:
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Total paralysis: You’re awake but can’t move a single muscle. Want to scream? Too bad. Need to blink? Good luck.
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Hallucinations: Your mind says, "You know what would make this worse? A demon in the corner." Cue shadowy shapes, ghostly whispers, or the feeling of a Pavarotti-sized someone sitting on your chest. Lovely.
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Sheer terror: Even though it’s harmless, your body thinks you’re under attack. Cue racing heart, sweating, and existential dread. Yay!
the hall of nightmares: common sleep paralysis themes
Sleep paralysis doesn’t hold back when it comes to creative nightmares. Here are a few classics:
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The shadowy intruder: A dark, vaguely human shape lurking in the corner of the room. Is it a burglar? A ghost? Nope, just your brain being an absolute menace.
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The chest sitter: You wake up and feel like Rakishi (90s wrestling throwback) is sitting on your chest. It’s a classic. Thanks, folklore, for perpetuating this terrifying imagery.
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The creepy crawlers: Some people see spiders, snakes, or other critters wriggling around. Because nothing says “good morning” like an imaginary tarantula on your face. Nice if you’re into that, not so nice if you’re a normal human being.
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The whispering demons: Unintelligible whispers or guttural growls are another favourite. They’re just your mind’s way of saying, "Let’s make this extra terrifying for no reason. They’ll love it!" Except you won’t. You really, really won’t.
why does sleep paralysis happen?
Scientists believe sleep paralysis occurs when your brain and body aren’t on the same page during the REM (rapid eye movement) stage of sleep, in fact, they’re reading different books. During REM, your brain paralyses your muscles, so you don’t act out your dreams (no one wants to wake up mid-karate kick, except that sounds unbelievably awesome). But if you wake up before REM is finished, congratulations—you’ve just been upgraded to nightmare fuel mode.
Here are some common triggers:
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Sleep deprivation: Because why just be tired when you can also be terrified?
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Stress: Your brain is basically a toddler throwing a tantrum. Toys, clothes, and mental health fully out of the pram.
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Irregular sleep schedule: Shift workers and jet-lagged travellers, take note.
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Sleeping on your back: Apparently, lying on your back makes you more susceptible. Side sleepers, rejoice!
living through the horror: a play-by-play
Picture this: You’re dreaming about something absurd, like flying with a flock of geese “come on geese! Hay hay hay hay hay” (obscure Fly Away Home quote). Suddenly, you wake up. But something feels… off. You try to sit up, but your body doesn’t respond. Panic sets in. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a shadowy figure lurking. It then feels like someone’s sitting on your chest, stealing the very air from your lungs. You can’t scream, can’t move, can’t escape. Then, just as you think you’re doomed, it stops. You snap out of it, gasping like you’ve just run a marathon while holding your breath for all 26.2 miles of it. Gnarly.
And then you think, "What the actual hell just happened?" The Bright Side (Yes, There Is One) is that sleep paralysis is harmless. It doesn’t cause physical damage, and you’re not actually being haunted by a Victorian-era ghost with unfinished business, and it’s not an oddly dashing Casper, you aren’t Christina Ricci, and your dad probably isn’t Bill Pullman. Your brain is just having a laugh at your expense. A very cruel, unfunny laugh.
how to (try to) prevent it
If you’d prefer to skip the sleep paralysis nightmares, here are some tips:
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Get enough sleep: Easier said than done, but aiming for 7–9 hours of shut-eye can reduce the likelihood of your brain betraying you. If you can’t figure that out, it’s 8.
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Stick to a routine: Go to bed and wake up at the same time every day. Yes, even on weekends. Yes, it’s boring. No, you don’t want to wake up paralysed again. So how about do it? OK?
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Sleep on your side: If you’re a back sleeper, consider switching to your side. Your brain seems less likely to throw shadow demons at you when you’re curled up like a prawn.
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Manage stress: Meditation, exercise, therapy—whatever works for you. The less stressed you are, the less likely your brain is to conjure a phantom opera. Or Andrew Lloyd Webber.
treatments: when to call the pros
For most people, sleep paralysis is a once-in-a-while horror show. But if it’s happening regularly and making you dread bedtime, it might be time to see a doctor.
Treatments can include:
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Sleep studies: Fancy equipment to see what’s going on while you snooze.
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Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT): To help you chill out and manage stress.
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Medication: In rare cases, a doctor might prescribe something to regulate your sleep cycles.
the comedy of sleep paralysis
Although it’s not funny in the slightest during an episode of sleep paralysis, afterwards you’re more than free to laugh about it. Imagine explaining it to someone who’s never experienced it:
"Yeah, so I woke up but couldn’t move, and then this shadow demon started looming over me, speaking in tongues. No big deal, though! Right? RIGHT?!"
They’d either think you’re auditioning for the next Conjuring film or that you’ve finally lost the plot.
The fact that your brain can make you believe you’re under siege by paranormal entities, all while you’re lying safely in bed, is both terrifying and absurd. It’s like your subconscious is a horror director with an unlimited budget. M Night-Terror Shyamalan… No? Fine. Be that way.
embracing the weirdness
If you’re prone to sleep paralysis, you’ve got two choices: let it ruin your sleep or lean into the weirdness. The next time a shadowy figure appears, mentally name it something ridiculous, like Kevin. Imagine Kevin tripping over your laundry pile or stepping on a Lego. Your brain won’t know what to do with your lack of terror.
the takeaway (not the delicious kind, sadly)
Sleep paralysis is one of those bizarre human experiences that reminds us just how odd our brains can be. Sure, it’s terrifying in the moment, but it’s also a reminder that our minds are incredibly powerful—and sometimes a bit too dramatic for their own good.
So, to all the sleep paralysis survivors out there: you’re not alone. Somewhere, someone else is also waking up, paralysed, and internally screaming at their imaginary ghost roommate. Take comfort in the fact that you’ll wake up fully soon enough, and maybe even laugh about it later… after you’ve double-checked your room for shadow demons. Until next time, eve sleep.
