Floating Head of Jesus. That was my terror. Along with the paralysis and shortness of breath, there was a Floating Head of Jesus over my closet door, hovering in the moonlight. Classic look of suffering, crown of thorns and all.
I did not come from a strict religious upbringing. I stopped attending Sunday school when I was 8. I had a sense of my agnosticism even at that age. At the time of this sleep event, I was probably 19 or 20.
I felt the Floating Head of Jesus was contolling my paralysis and had either just spoken, was currently speaking or was about to speak something about the fate of my immortal soul. In one second I was battling to hang on to all I understood about the world in the face of this impossible, divine intrusion. I mean, damn, here I was awake (apparently), terrified, my body frozen by some supernatural Floating Head of Jesus—didn’t that prove something?
Then the Floating Head of Jesus folded outward and split into… Three Floating Heads of Jesus. And I thought, “Ah, the Holy Trinity.” And then I thought, “Hmmm, what a pathetically literal iconization of the Holy Trinity. That’s something my non-Catholic brain would burp up in a dream.”
And then, as if on cue, the Three Floating Heads of Jesus melted into the moonlight, my limbs relaxed, my breathing calmed and I awoke fully to try to decipher what had happened. I had no knowledge of sleep paralysis, but I had an inkling that I’d just suffered through a “waking dream” of some sort. I was still shaken, and I lay awake for some time mulling dream states, religious symbology, sense perception, hallucination, etc., before getting back to sleep.
When I woke up in the morning, not only was the Floating Head of Jesus just a memory, but I felt an increased confidence in my ability to see through weird, “unexplainable” phenomena (never had a direct opportunity before this) to find reasonable causes.
I’ve had a couple episodes in the 20 years since, but they were only physical, and my understanding of what was happening quelled my fear very quickly.