In the Middle of the Night

4a.m. I was startled out of my sleep by my boyfriend.
Bf: Did you see that?
Me: [I thought he was talking in his sleep again, so as usual, I respond] See what?
Bf: [with eyes open] The hand on the wall.
Me: [what the f*ck?!!! my heart was pounding. I look over to the wall that had shadows cast from the street lights peaking through the blinds, hoping I wouldn't see a hand] No, what are you talking about?
Bf: A hand came out of the wall.
Me: Are you talking in your sleep?
Bf: No, I'm talking for real.
Me: You're just seeing things. [I close my eyes and try not to think about a dark hand hovering over my face...but of course I open my eyes and check the wall again just to make sure there's nothing there...and I did that three times]

I wasn't able to sleep for awhile, but just as I was beginning to doze off, my alarm rings.

I don't believe in using luck, bad or good, as a rationalization for events that happen to people. I believe in cause and effect, even if the cause of the effect may not be apparent. Why then, was I praying that the hand that my boyfriend supposedly saw was not some sort of evil spirit, or worse, an alien who wants to snatch us away to probe us and impregnate me with their own? Only when I was fully awake was I able to reconcile my fear. Through evolutionary adaptation, humans react to tough situations via fight or flight. If we were to step back and take a logical look at every dire situation, the likelihood that we'd survive is slim. Imagine a ferocious pit bull charging towards you. Do you try to recall Caesar Milan's training methods and apply it on the dog, do you run away as fast as you can, or do you grab the closest object to you and beat the sh*t out of the beast? In my case, I chose flight--close my eyes and hope that the spirit would leave me.