Last night, my mother shook me awake around 1:00a.m. and told me I had been screaming bloody murder and had scared the crap out of her.
This was upsetting news!
I remember what I was dreaming — I was not having sleep paralysis, but I was dreaming that I was telling someone about a time I had had sleep paralysis (in the dream world; not an actual time), and as I told the story, dream-me was also me in the story having sleep paralysis, and this nested me was attempting to scream myself awake in the story in the dream about the story.
Except apparently I was also screaming in actual real life.
Edith sleeps right next to me, and although I was screaming loud enough to bring Mom running from across the house (closed door and white noise machine notwithstanding), Edith slept on, unbothered. “Not my problem,” I imagine she thought, if she noticed it at all.
Meanwhile, at any point in the night where she so much as clears her throat slightly, I am up like a shot and preparing her a snack. It’s very apparent who the alpha is in this house.
Accismus 