So I’ve had intermittent hypnagogic hallucinations for the past two years or so. They were really frequent two years ago, then became less and less but the experience was learned and now I don’t know when to expect them.
The most notable ones at first were, of course, the most disruptive. A dark man would repeatedly appear in the corner of the ceiling. Hanging there. I woke Lisa up a few time with, well, not so much screaming as quiet anguished cries. I’m such a masculine man.
Then I would get floating objects. Spheres and cylinders and vertical bundles of fibers about a foot-and-a-half in height. Those un-threatening objects were easier to look at and didn’t Freak Me Out as, understandably, the others did. When the man-in-the-corner went away I was pretty, pretty, pretaaaaay happy.
But I wasn’t. Because he could always come back. So I still don’t generally open my eyes when I’m in bed. When I’m shifting positions. Yeah, I feel like a 12-year-old but I kindof don’t care. The one doctor I talked to about it, from whom I learned the terms hypnagogic and hypnopompic, was understanding. Morning is fine for the obvious reason that there is no darkness for my mind to create whatever, but night sucks and isn’t this supposed to end at my age?
In the last six months or so I haven’t had any freak outs (although, sometimes I don’t remember specifics and Lisa tells me about them) but I sincerely kind of miss the objects that float. They’re neat, but maybe just because they’re not not neat. Everything’s a route of creative inspirations so this is valuable.