What I Do in the Bedroom Stays Between Me and My Night Terror Hallucinations

A lot of jerks think it’s okay to police people’s private lives – but it’s not. It’s really no one else’s business what happens in my queen-sized bed. So, please: Respect my privacy, and try to understand that whatever stuff you might find “offensive” that I do in the bedroom should stay between me and the dark hallucinations that terrorize my dreams each night.



First of all, I don’t think it’s the place of the government to come in and tell me what I can do with my body – and they certainly shouldn’t tell me what cryptic whispers I should or shouldn’t be hearing when I wake up frozen and half-conscious at three in the morning. It’s my human right to believe in that moment, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that a man with the face of a bear is in my room, ready to kidnap me. And you have no right to infringe upon my rights within that space.


Get used to it, people!


And to be honest, I don’t care if my “lifestyle” goes against your “religious beliefs.” If my coat rack wants to transform into a foreboding silhouette whose stare I can somehow feel – rendering me desperate to leave yet too scared to move – that’s our business, honey!


Some people are into foreplay. Well guess what, losers: Some of us like to sit up in bed, scream, “I DON’T WANT THIS ANYMORE!,” and then repeat it until one of our roommates comes into the room and calmly explains for the sixth time this year that everything is fine and “you’re just having another episode.”


I used to be ashamed, but now I am proud to say that yes dear, after I wake up, I DO instantly forget what I was afraid of and feel obligated to profusely apologize to anyone who was disturbed by my unexpected freakout. It’s just who I am, babe! Live and let live (in abject horror)!


I have so much respect for people who come out of the closet. By “people who come out of the closet,” I am, of course, referring to the monstrous specters who I falsely perceive to be coming out of my closet. And by “respect,” I mean I have “an irrational yet incredibly realistic fear.” Don’t mind me – I’m living my truth!



I’m just asking to be treated the same way as someone who doesn’t have to take a melatonin and wear a sleep mask to significantly reduce the risk of triggering delusional panic attacks which have no discernible cause and that multiple doctors have basically shrugged off as freaky weirdo nightmares. Who can relate? Can I get some snaps out here?


I don’t know how many times I have to say it, y’all! Love is love, and deeply repressed emotional trauma is deeply repressed emotional trauma!