The Dark Side of Reality - Part I

The hotel room was nothing impressive. It had two queen beds, one near the door, and another near the far wall. The beds were situated about five feet apart. Back then, in the early nineties, my sister’s attitude in general was usually much better than mine. Unfortunately, I was into the me-me-me trend of thinking. Alicia was of a more giving and accommodating nature and coped with it in a stunning fashion. I stepped into the room and announced the farthest bed was mine. My sister rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, and then said, “Fine. Have it.”

I actually had good reason for wanting the far bed. I had easy access to the television screen, and it was only three feet past the foot of the bed to the bathroom door. This was important since I was too wound up to fall asleep right away, and I’d consumed a whole lot of liquids during the visit with our family earlier. In what little defense I can muster, Alicia hadn’t been much on watching television for a quite some time.

We’d arrived that day in Holdenville, Oklahoma to attend our grandfather’s funeral. Both of us were tired from the long hours of drive and ride time from Richmond, Virginia. We’d made it to the family gathering at our aunt and uncle’s home only a few blocks away and later returned to the room for some much needed rest. Holdenville is often referred to as a one-horse town. It is in fact a multi-horse town. Cowboys, cowgirls and their horses can be found all over the place. People take country life seriously there.

When we arrived at the hotel to check in, there was only one room available. It didn’t matter because the rooms were set up identically. It met the necessary criteria for weary travellers, and truthfully, the points that impressed us had nothing to do with décor. It was clean, had a working bathroom and shower, and two big beds. One for Alicia and Ray, and one for me. It was also only a few blocks away from the funeral home and our family’s homes. We took it without complaint.

My sister got herself and her four-year-old son situated, and both turned in for the night in their bed. I took my turn for clean up and changing, and climbed into the far bed to watch television for a while before I fell asleep. I kept the volume low, and it wasn’t long before I grew drowsy and clicked off the lights and television to call it a night myself. I left the light on in the bathroom and left the door slightly ajar. None of us wanted to wake up in total darkness with unfamiliar surroundings.

I’d been steadily in and out of dozing, not quite able to fall into a deep sleep, when the unexpected happened. I felt the bed mattress shift followed by a very heavy weight developing across my waist and chest. It was heavy enough around my torso to prevent me from sitting up, and I felt a gripping pressure begin to squeeze my throat.

I had enough light to see … nothing! The constriction on my throat grew tighter, until I couldn’t exhale or inhale. I pushed my hands away from me, but felt only air. I grabbed at my neck desperately trying to dislodge and pull away whatever, or whomever, was choking me, but only connected with my own throat. I couldn’t shout, speak or even whisper for help. It felt exactly like someone had straddled my torso, was holding me down and had a choke hold on my throat.

I knew I was in trouble and then panic set in. A barrage of prayers began firing through my mind, and somewhere in the desperate stream, a thought jumped out. If I could get to my sister, I’d have help!

I pressed my shoulders upward, but the weight was so heavy, that I made no progress, and still the tightening at my throat continued. At this point my prayer barrage had shifted to a frantic repetition of PLEASE, GOD! I sincerely thought I was going to die from suffocation. In a final attempt to break free from whomever, or whatever was holding me down and choking me, I wrenched my shoulders and pelvis, digging my heels into the mattress. Thankfully, I rolled left, and went head first over the side of the bed. The grip on my throat never loosened, and the weight on my torso continued to pull and clutch at me. I slid forward, and my legs cleared the bed behind me. When I was able to get my knees under me, I crawled toward my sister’s bed.

Hot tears of fright and frustration flooded my eyes, but the thought maintained, if I could get to her, I’d have help. Thankfully, she’d fallen asleep on the side of the bed nearest me, and it was only a short five feet of space between the beds.

That was the longest five feet I’ve ever crawled, but I did it. (Or perhaps God did it for me.) I thought I would faint before I could reach her, but I closed the gap. As soon as I stretched my hand toward her to finally clamp my fingers around her wrist, the weight left me and the pressure encasing my throat released. It happened that fast. As soon as I touched her, it was gone and I was free to resume moving and breathing without hindrance.

I was squeezing my sister’s wrist so hard that I’m surprised I didn’t hurt her, but I definitely startled her. She woke up immediately, turned over and found me on the floor next to her bed. One of my hands still clung to her wrist, and my other one was rubbing my throat. I couldn’t remember it ever feeling as good to breathe as it did right then. Up until then I’d pretty much taken breathing for granted.

She sat up in the bed asking, “Are you OK?” I could only manage to answer her with, “Move over!”

I was so frightened I was shaking from an impressive adrenalin rush. I climbed into the bed with her and stayed there the rest of the night. I explained as best as I could what had happened, and of course, she said a prayer. I finally fell asleep in the middle of some serious prayer time myself just as the first rays of morning started shining through the curtain.

There were no further incidents that night, but the trouble on that trip wasn't over. We still had a funeral to get through and the return trip home, and though the rest of the night was quiet, there were bad situations yet to come.