I dreamed something akin to that one study where the people are supposedly hooked up to shock devices on one side of the window, while on the other side, there are just regular folk in charge of the switches, while a scientist stands there telling them to keep increasing the voltage. And they hear the folks on the other side screaming horrible screams, but most people keep following orders to shock higher and higher voltages until it’s in the lethal range and people stop making sounds. Now the volts that these other folks were supposedly receiving were in reality a fake quality of the study, but the people pushing the buttons under orders from these scientist dudes didn’t know that. After the study, a lot of these folks sued for psychological harm or something like that.
I dreamed something close to that just now, I think. Something like that, but combined with the Stanford Prison Experiment.
I dreamed me and my buds were the initial sample group, and they split us into two groups: therapists and clients. Only, in this case, the therapists were also performing low grade surgery; for which the purpose of was that it supposedly would result in better composure and sense of well-being in the clients.
Only, in the dream, something went wrong. It did put us into an altered state of consciousness, but not in the positive way that it was supposed to have done. Instead, we were all in horrible, horrible pain. So much so that we were not aware of ourselves–kind of like being on the very lowest functioning end of the autistic spectrum perhaps (while your parents submit you to random painful experiences).
But in the interest of the study, which was being directed by the prof that doesn’t particularly care for me, they were more interested in fulfilling their objectives, than to actually look at the havoc they were creating. They also taped it for posterity’s sake or whatever.
Believing themselves to be doing the right thing, thinking that the more they kept using these techniques, we would eventually start enjoying ourselves, they kept at it, all while we’re screaming mindlessly at them. They’re touching us with electric prods, and cutting us open and working around the blood and we just keep screaming. And I’m there in my body, but I can’t do anything.
And then I wake up the next day, and can’t remember anything, except that I feel really sore, right? We go to class just like always, and the teacher starts talking about this shit and practically showing fucking home videos. She’s just standing there watching us in horrible horrible pain, talking calmly about the “objectives of this experiment were . . .”and “look what was achieved” and the “results in some of the testing fields were amazing” etc.
It’s slowly dawning on me the entire time that I wasn’t even in control of my own body during that period of time and I don’t remember it all; I just know that I can still feel the terror, and the sense of Not Rightness, and betrayal, and horror.
So right there, in class I ask for details about me. They give it to me like they’re reciting the morning paper or something; saying things like, “it was really hard for us to get this stat, because you wouldn’t respond, so we had to crank it higher . . .”
And I just tear into them. I say that was completely unethical–everything that they did–and if they ever try this shit again, I’ll stand up against them in an official court of law (if I don’t already), and they can’t understand why I’m so pissed off.
“It was all for the study!” They keep saying. They don’t understand it, even though I’m screaming again and I leave. And then, 6 other people who were the subjects get up and say the same thing, one by one; saying that they’ll sue or stand up in court or whatever.
We’re walking down the hall then, and they’re showing me what the tools they used were, and how much bleeding this one girl did and–I just tell them to stop, to stop. I can’t handle it anymore. I’m overwhelmed, and every time I relax, I just jerk up, tense up into a ball with horrible stomach cramps, thinking “they could do this again as soon as you go to sleep and they won’t care. They’ll hurt you and they won’t care and you can’t do a damn thing about it, no matter how much you scream. And they did with you as they pleased and you can’t change that.”
See, ’cause, ever since the classroom period of this dream, I’ve been awake, like for real, but the dream is still going, even I’m trying to wake up and get out of it. My eyes are open and I’m thinking, but every time I relax, I really do spasm into a ball, every muscle in my body tight and I’m shaking. And I can’t make it stop.
“Please let it stop. Please please please. Make it stop. Please. Please. I can’t–I can’t handle this. It won’t stop. Please please please.” That’s the mantra in my head, even now, after being awake and up for 40 minutes.
I don’t know what you classify this as. Maybe night terror? I don’t know, but it won’t stop. I have these every so often, but not recently. I can just see the people whom I think are my friends, with these blank looks on their faces, not understanding that what they’re doing is real. And no one can hear me, because they’re not listening.
And I’m cold, but I’m wearing like three layers, and the heat’s on. And I’m so so so scared.
It won’t leave my head. My nightmares rarely do for a while. I’m so tired, but if I start to relax, I just can feel their fingers clamping back down on my skin, and I jump and then it’s just images and rhythms tangled and mismatched in my head, flashing along in the wrong tempo from the rest of my brain. It’s like the ultimate stimming experience; my fingers won’t stop moving, nor my eyes, and I feel like there’s someone behind me about to shoot me in the head. So scared. I just keep spasming and my teeth are chattering off and on. Random body parts keep tensing up, and I’m sort of hungry, but I think if I ate anything right now, I’d probably just throw up.
It’s like waking up in the middle of a panic attack, only I know what those are like. I’ve have my share of experiences with those and this isn’t quite like that. Sort of, but not entirely. For one, I’m not hyperventilating. I’m not breathing a whole lot in fact.
EDIT: So 2 hours later and I’m better, but still shaking.
Doing what I do best, I googled this, put the Chieftains on, and started reading up on the concept of sleep paralysis–which is what I’m about 99% sure this was. Most of the information I read stated people don’t often have more than one of these experiences in their lifetimes; well, including this time, I’ve had at least three–all in the past two years. Eep.