Parasomnia Minutes

The shortening of breath with legs shifting and rapidly anxious heartbeats seeping into the walls is deafening.

A middle-aged woman with greying hair crawls into the twin bed and pulls the blanket as quietly as she can manage.

“What happened?” a small voice yawns. The eyes of the five-year girl have widened and are searching in the darkness.

The older woman gets up and searches for something on the shelf.

“There’s nothing the matter, go back to sleep, I just need to stay here for a little bit.”

She is staring at the wall, her mind completely blank, her lungs are tightening, and she can’t keep her eyes off the door.

The young girl lies looking at her mother’s back and hands that she’s planted on the shelf. She wonders what her mother could possibly be running from as she wraps her Minnie Mouse blanket closer around her.

“Mom?”

The exhausted woman crawls back in and turns over, the little girl gently puts the small blanket over her body.

“Don’t worry, honey, just go back to bed.”

The daughter stares at the back of her head and listens to her mother’s labored breathing until she can’t remember falling asleep.

As the sun rises, the daughter gets up with a start and lets out a little yelp. Her mother is gone. Was that what people meant by dreaming?

The shortening of breath at night comes back. Her legs shift against each other and sometimes against or towards another. She continues to pull the blanket closer around her. She clutches her anxious heartbeat in desperate hope that it won’t stop.

The memory refuses to stop unfolding.