I’ve been a sleepwalker since I was a teen. My sleep paralysis is more scary, though
Alkira Reinfrank never grew out of sleepwalking and started to suffer sleep paralysis episodes in her 20s. She talks to a sleep expert about why it happens and how to overcome what can be terrifying – and dangerous – experiences
In the dead of night, I wake, sensing a presence in my flat. My eyes dart around my small studio apartment, trying to find any point of reference. Then I see him. From my bed, I can make out a shadowed figure crouching in my kitchen sink. It’s too dark to make out details, but I know he’s there, watching me.
I’m frozen. My scream is stuck in my throat. He sits between me and the door; between me and my escape. I can’t move, but I have to. My body is limp, but my mind is on fire. After what seems like a few minutes I somehow tear away from my paralysed state and race across the room for the door.
Can you get too much sleep? And is it bad for you?
As soon as I grasp the cool handle, a wave of realisation washes over me. Slamming on the lights, I whip around, confirming I am actually alone. It’s just me, my heaving breath, and my pounding heart.
“It’s OK,” I tell myself, my body still coursing with adrenaline. “It’s not real.” But what had I just experienced? What felt like a terrifying attack of sleep paralysis seemed to somehow morph into an episode of sleepwalking – or rather sleep sprinting. But is that even possible?
Strange night occurrences are nothing new for me. I have been a sleepwalker since I was a young teenager – episodes triggered after long weekends playing sport resulting in an exhausted body. Just a few weeks ago I managed to brush my teeth while asleep. Well, I tried to – the next morning I found toothpaste spread across the sink.
More common are my sleep paralysis episodes, where I wake paralysed and see a face or person in my room for a few terrifying seconds. The episodes only began in my early 20s, and are a frequent reminder of building stress or anxiety levels.
