Sleep Paralysis

Sleep Paralysis: When the Body Sleeps but the Soul Stays Awake

What Is Sleep Paralysis?

• Sleep paralysis is a condition in which a person, either while falling asleep (hypnagogic) or waking up (hypnopompic), becomes conscious but temporarily unable to move or speak.
  
  

• It is classified as a REM parasomnia and occurs when the normal muscle atonia (paralysis) of REM sleep persists into wakefulness.
  
  

• While not life-threatening, episodes are often terrifying, sometimes involving visual, auditory, or tactile hallucinations.
  
  

The National Institutes of Health (NIH, 2022) explains that sleep paralysis is part of the spectrum of isolated sleep paralysis (ISP) and is distinct from narcolepsy, although it may co-occur in up to 30-50% of narcoleptics. In the general population, its prevalence is approximately 7.6%, rising up to 28% among students and individuals with psychiatric comorbidities (Sharpless & Barber, 2011).

Symptoms of Sleep Paralysis

Sleep paralysis typically involves three overlapping symptom domains:

1. Atonia (Muscle Paralysis)
   The defining feature—an inability to move limbs, head, or speak, despite being fully aware. Lasts from a few seconds to several minutes.
   
   

2. Hallucinations
   These are vivid and often terrifying, and fall into three main categories (Cheyne et al., 1999):
   
   

   • Intruder hallucinations: Sensing a malevolent presence in the room.
     
     

   • Incubus hallucinations: Sensations of pressure on the chest, choking, or breathing difficulty.
     
     

   • Vestibular-motor hallucinations: Feeling of floating, flying, or out-of-body experiences (OBEs).
     
     

3. Extreme Emotional Distress
   Individuals often report overwhelming fear, a sense of impending doom, or even believing they are dying.
   
   

In a 2018 meta-analysis by Denis and French, sleep paralysis was found to be strongly correlated with anxiety disorders, especially panic disorder and PTSD. Sleep deprivation and irregular circadian rhythms were also significant predictors.

The Cultural and Religious Dimension: A Global Hallucination

Across time and geography, people have interpreted sleep paralysis through supernatural frameworks:

• Middle East: Known as "jinn attack" in Arabic folklore—evil spirits sitting on the chest of sleepers.
  
  

• Scandinavia: The Mare, a demonic entity, was believed to ride the sleeper’s chest and steal breath.
  
  

• Japan: Kanashibari—a state caused by vengeful spirits or ancestors.
  
  

• Nigeria: "The Devil on Your Back"—linked with spiritual warfare or punishment.
  
  

• Islamic Interpretations: Some scholars see it as a sign of Shayatin (evil spirits) visiting the sleeper; exorcism rites (Ruqyah) are sometimes performed in severe cases.
  
  

Despite different religious lenses, the core descriptions—immobility, sensed presence, and fear—remain consistent worldwide, reflecting a shared human experience filtered through belief.

According to Cheyne et al. (1999), the emotional intensity and realism of hallucinations during sleep paralysis make people more likely to assign spiritual or demonic significance to the episodes. This connection can cause additional distress and avoidance of sleep altogether, which worsens the condition.

Clinical vs. Spiritual: A False Divide?

Medical science frames sleep paralysis as a harmless REM-state intrusion. But the subjective suffering it causes is real—and deeply spiritual for many. A mismatch between clinical reassurance and a person's lived fear can lead to misdiagnosis, social withdrawal, or in some cases, psychiatric hospitalization.

Furthermore, studies suggest that individuals who interpret their episodes through religious frameworks—e.g., demonic visitation—report longer durations and more intense experiences (Jalal, 2016).

HAQ’s Embrace

At the Home of Abrahamic Quiver, we believe that not all sleep is restful and not all awakenings are from dreams. When someone stirs from sleep paralyzed, heart racing, and haunted by what science calls a hallucination—but the soul calls a presence—we do not ignore them.

We do not pathologize fear. We sanctify it.

Where others see a REM disruption, we see a soul caught between dimensions. Where others prescribe more sleep, we offer spiritual armor. We understand that sleep paralysis is not just a neurological glitch—it is a spiritual battlefield where the seen and unseen collide.

At HAQ, healing does not begin with REM tracking—it begins with recognizing that some fears are not irrational. They are ancient. And they are worthy of spiritual attention.

References

• American Academy of Sleep Medicine. (2020). Sleep Paralysis. https://aasm.org
  
  

• American Sleep Association. (2023). Sleep Paralysis Overview. https://www.sleepassociation.org
  
  

• Cheyne, J. A., Rueffer, S. D., & Newby-Clark, I. R. (1999). Hypnagogic and hypnopompic hallucinations during sleep paralysis: neurological and cultural construction of the night-mare. Consciousness and Cognition, 8(3), 319–337.
  
  

• Denis, D., & French, C. C. (2018). A systematic review of variables associated with sleep paralysis. Journal of Sleep Research, 27(3), e12621.
  
  

• Denis, D., Zavos, H., Gregory, A. (2015). Genetic influences on sleep paralysis: A twin study. Twin Research and Human Genetics, 18(6), 718–726.
  
  

• Jalal, B. (2016). Sleep paralysis through the ages: A history of the cultural interpretations of sleep paralysis. Frontiers in Psychology, 7, 1151.
  
  

• Sharpless, B. A., & Barber, J. P. (2011). Lifetime prevalence rates of sleep paralysis: A systematic review. Sleep Medicine Reviews, 15(5), 311–315.
  
  

“Something Was Watching Me”
A fictional account from a 27-year-old man describing his real experience with sleep paralysis

It happened again last night.

I had gone to bed past midnight—nothing new. I remember watching videos on my phone, letting the screen blur into the dark. I don’t even remember falling asleep. But I remember waking up.

At least, I think I did.

My eyes opened. The ceiling was above me. The faint hum of the fan. The distant bark of a dog. Everything seemed normal—until I tried to move.

Nothing.

Not my fingers, not my arms. I couldn’t turn my head. My body was locked, like it belonged to someone else.

Then came the dread.

It wasn’t just fear. It was like I had been noticed. There was a presence in the room. I didn’t see it at first, but I felt it. Behind me, behind my head, just out of sight. My heart raced, but my chest wouldn’t rise fast enough. Like someone was sitting on it.

And then I heard it—breathing.

Heavy, slow, not mine.

I wanted to scream. My throat refused. I tried to blink hard, to shake myself awake, to pray. But every word of prayer I tried to form stayed stuck behind my tongue.

The figure crept into the corner of my vision. Not fully visible—just a shape darker than the dark. It stood still, but I knew it was staring. Not curious. Not kind. Watching.

Waiting.

Suddenly, like a cord snapped, my body released. I gasped and sat up, heart pounding. My shirt was soaked. I flipped on the lights, but the room was empty. Just me and my own panic.

I didn’t sleep the rest of the night.

HAQ’s Embrace

At the Home of Abrahamic Quiver, we listen to stories like this not as metaphors or delusions—but as messages. We know the weight of those unseen eyes, the breathless silence of the dark, and the terror that medical words alone can’t erase.

When you walk through our doors after a night like that, we don’t ask for proof of what you saw—we ask how it made you feel.

We respond not just with prayer, but with presence. Not just with compassion, but conviction. At HAQ, we meet your spiritual battles with spiritual strength and treat you of the condition.

Because healing doesn’t come from ignoring the shadow. It comes from walking through it with the light.