I have always been a quiet observer of these accounts, but today I feel ready to share one of my own. It is about the times I have found myself trapped in stillness while dreaming.
My first memory of this was when I was eleven. I shared a small room with my older brother, our beds pushed against opposite walls. One night, I opened my eyes to see the room bathed in a deep, quiet blue. The moon was full and its light streamed through the window, painting everything in a soft, cold shade.
I tried to turn over, but my body would not listen. A heavy silence pressed down on me. I could see my brother’s chest rising and falling with sleep, peaceful and unaware. Panic started to rise in my chest. I focused everything I had, every bit of my will, into lifting a hand. After a great internal struggle, I felt my fingers twitch, and the strange hold was broken.