The Sleep Study

A short story about a sleep clinic

Not long ago, I went to a sleep clinic to have my sleep studied. It was a strange experience, and I couldn’t help but think to myself the entire time I was there that this would make such an eerie story.

So I wrote one.

I hope you enjoy! I’ll do another post soon about character motivation and how that works as the narrative drive.

The setting sun reflected harsh rays directly into my eyes as I pulled up to the abandoned strip mall. I drove into an empty parking stall and stared at the line of windows for a beat, scrap paper taped haphazardly on the inside, before I threw the car into park.

Was this the place? My last hope was an abandoned strip mall? I dug into the back pocket of my jeans and looked again at the address that my doctor had reluctantly scribbled on the sticky note she’d given me after I’d begged her for help. I stifled a yawn and squinted through my achy eyes at the building numbers - those tacky slanted stick on gold metal house numbers I’d seen at plenty of old trailer parks back in the Rockies.

71521 Potter Parkway. My eyes darted back to the wrinkled paper. 71521 Potter Parkway.

I sighed. This place looked as promising as the Tarot card reader I’d visited last week. What a sham that was.

I took my seatbelt off and opened the door to the old ’81 Cadillac DeVille that I had picked up to cut costs when I lost my job. The door squealed angrily and I pulled myself out and into the abandoned parking lot. The bandages I had wrapped around my wounds pulled and hurt. I grimaced and forced myself up.

I took a minute to look around. There were some signs of life at the far end of the empty strip mall - an over full shopping cart and some stacked pallets that looked like a makeshift shelter. The summer night came off as heat waves that wavered over the smelly asphalt parking lot.

The bright sun was beginning to dive further down the window, so I shuffled up onto the sidewalk. My ear had begun to itch again and I gingerly touched the bandage that I’d taped over it.

When the sun went down, that’s when he spoke to me. I chanced a scratch and winced as pain lanced along the ridge of my ear.

Lord, please let this place help stop it. I hadn’t had any rest for months.

I held up a hand to shade my exhausted eyes from the sun and searched for the name of the place.

There it was. A faded white and blue sign that had cracked from years of exposure. Long Hill Sleep Clinic, the sign said. Second floor.

I chuckled. “Well. I’ll be damned. The place does exist.”

I walked over to the metal and glass door and yanked on the handle. The door clanged loudly. It was locked.

“Christ.” I held a hand up and tried to peer inside. All I could make out was a foyer with a set of stairs leading up.

I yawned and closed my eyes. The sun warmed my back and I closed my eyes for a minute. Whispers of despair swirled in my mind.

ssssssssssssssss.

My eyes snapped open. No. I couldn’t fall asleep. Frantically, I slapped my cheeks and shook my head. There, beside the door was a call button and a speaker, like the ones at the entrance of apartment buildings. I slammed on the “call” button and waited as it rang, tinny and thin through the quiet night air. Only the sounds of cars passing on the Parkway behind me every so often made me realize that this was actually real.

No answer.

I yawned again and struggled to pull the scrap paper out of my Levi’s and I turned it over.

0125, the doctor had scrawled. I stepped over and peered at the little metal buttons. My eyes weren’t near as good as they once were. I punched in the numbers and a mean buzz followed by a noisy click made me jump back.

stopstopstopstopstop.

I shook my head, dispelling the voice and then moved over and tried the door. It opened.

I walked through the empty foyer and started up the steps. “Anyone here?”

Nobody answered, so I continued to trudge up the steps. Each step was a struggle, my body had grown lethargic after so many nights of not enough rest. Once I made it to the landing, I could see that there was a hallway beyond, lit by fluorescent lights that droned like tinnitus.

My hand had unconsciously found its way to my ear and I itched at my ear ferociously. It was sore and it throbbed, swollen from months of itching. I probably needed to change my bandage soon.

I nervously edged down the hallway. It was strange that nobody was here. A cheery sign with an arrow at the end of the hall directed me towards Long Hill Sleep Clinic.

I stopped when I arrived at the door. The same sign was screwed into the door. I tried a soft knock.

Nothing.

I turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Beyond, a small waiting room was bathed in soft light - a faded blue couch faced a plain oak coffee table. There was a paper sign that said ‘PLEASE REMOVE YOUR FOOTWEAR’ and another taped below that read ‘PLEASE BE QUIET, SLEEP STUDIES IN EFFECT.’

I stepped inside and took off my shoes, placing them on the plastic shoe rack next to the door. I eyed the couch, but I was afraid of closing my eyes.

“Hello?” I whispered.

There were closed doors all over, and another hallway that led away from the waiting room. I guessed that there were bedrooms behind all of those doors.

A door opened up and a short Filipino woman wearing blue scrubs emerged. I smiled and she returned my smile. “Is it your first time? Are you Robert?” She asked.

I nodded. She pointed. “I’ll be with you in a minute. Just finishing up with someone else.

I risked a seat on the couch, where my eyes seemed to shut unbidden.

darknessblacknessfeastfeastjoinmeRobertjoinmeineternalsleep.

I jerked awake. The nurse had been shaking me. “Are you alright?” She asked.

Wildly, I studied the waiting room. “I. I guess so. Was I screaming?”

“The room is this way.” She replied, ignoring my question. She stood and walked off down the hallway, her blue scrubs swishing. I rose, staring at the light brown walls. The interior of the Sleep Clinic reminded me of the sketchy hostels I’d stayed in when I backpacked across the country.

The Filipino nurse opened a door and left it ajar. I followed.

Inside, there was a bed with a panel where the headboard would be. It was similar to all of the gadgets and doodads that I’d seen in hospital rooms. Cords and cables were draped on top of the bed.

“My name is Angel. I’ll be helping you to sleep tonight. We will begin with the survey about your sleeping habits.”

“Okay.”

She handed me a clipboard with a written survey on it. It was basic demographic information. I scribbled on the paper until I got further down the page.

“This question asks me about alcohol, marijuana, and other drug use. Do I really need to answer that?”

Angel nodded.

“Why?”

“It interferes with your sleep. We need to understand your baseline for the study.”

“Hmm.” I answered. I scanned further down the survey. “Does this get shared with anyone? Like the government?”

Angel wheeled a small cart out of the corner and began to uncoil little electrical cables and murmured something. Did she say ‘possession’?

sheknowssheknowssheknows.

“What did you say?” I demanded, rubbing vigorously at my ear.

“No, we don’t share any of it, except with your doctor. I just said it is important for each session. We may need to do additional sessions if we don’t find anything this time.”

“Sure.” I replied.

“I’m going to have to attach these leads all over to capture your soul, I mean your sleep, most effectively. Are you wearing what you will sleep in?”

I looked at all of the electrical wires that she had spread out over the bed. “All of those?

Angel frowned. “Yes. I will give you a moment to get ready for bed.” She rose and left the room.

I looked around at all of the equipment. Then I took my clothes off, leaving just my underwear and my dirty T-shirt. I smoothed the bandages and tried to ensure that I was as decent as I could be.

sweetdreamssweetdreamsRobert.

I tore at my ear. I could feel wetness growing - I’d probably ripped the scab. If only I could get the voice to leave me alone. I was so tired and frustrated. I had tried medicine: antipsychotics, anti-anxiety and antidepressants. I’d even asked a Catholic priest to work an exorcism on me. All the priest had given me was a worried look and told me to pray.

I had thought about the revolver that my dad had left me when he passed, but that would be quitting. Stullman’s don’t quit, that’s for damn sure.

Angel came back into the room. “I’m sorry to ask, but is it okay for me to touch you and put these leads on? I use some sticky medical grade putty to attach it to your skin.”

“Will it hurt?” I asked. That was a stupid question. Everything hurt.

Angel shook her head. I passed her the completed questionnaire and she looked it over. “What exactly brings you to the Clinic today, Mr….Stoolman?”

“It’s pronounced Stullman. Like hull and then man. Anyway, I’ve been hearing voices. They are worse when I sleep. Nightmares, too.”

Angel’s eyebrows went up at that. “What sorts of voices?”

I let the silence hang momentarily.

She picked up a notepad from the cart and motioned with her pencil. “I’m supposed to record everything that could potentially impact your sleep, Mr. Stoolman.”

I cringed when she got my name wrong again. I looked around the room. It felt like some kind of television set, the bed and nightstand decorated with cables and all sorts of pseudo medical stuff. “It begins as a whisper, just when dusk starts to—”

There was a strange movement in the corner of the room. A black streak raced across my vision. I flinched and wrenched my head around. “What was that?”

Angel looked up from her notepad. “What was what?”

I studied the room. Everything was in its place and nothing was awry. “I…I thought I saw something. Sorry.”

Angel smiled and her pencil scratched on her notepad. “No problem. Sometimes that can happen with insomnia. I see that you have a lot of bandages - would you say that is related to your sleep concerns?”

I touched my ear and it throbbed uncomfortably under my fingers. “I get these uncontrollable itches. Urges. When the voice comes.” I felt my cheeks heat up. “I know it sounds stupid.”

She nodded, and placed the pad and paper down on the single wooden chair next to the door. “I’m going to touch you now, to place these leads in their correct places. Will that be okay?”

I nodded. She began attaching the leads all over my body, little dabs of a vaseline type of substance held them fast to my skin. She attached them to my legs, chest, arms, head, face, neck, and stomach. It was far more invasive than I had bargained for, and I had to adjust some of my bandages so that she could do her job.

Once all of the electrical leads were attached, she took out a couple of lines of clear plastic: the type that I’d seen emphysema patients have wrapped around their ears and tucked into their nostrils.

itscomingitscomingigettoliveinyouigettobreatheinyouRobert.

“So. Did you grow up here?” I asked, squirming to dispel the voice. I wasn’t excited about the oxygen tubing and I was starting to realize that I would have to try and go to sleep soon. I wanted answers, but I never looked forward to the night, where the voice and all of its machinations tried to infiltrate me.

Angel offered a polite smile. “I am originally from the Philippines, but I had to come here to save my family.”

“Save?”

“Maybe that isn’t the right word. I send them money every month and must do this work.”

This was a common enough thing, but the way that she spoke about her family felt strange. Was she really who she said she was?

“Oh yeah. Do you get to see your family?”

“I have a daughter, but she is in a manikomyo…a hospital. I pray she will come out soon.”

I let out a huff of air, restricted by all of the leads and tubing wrapped around me. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“That’s alright. I’ll have done my quota soon.”

Quota? What the hell was she talking about?

Angel stood. “It will be time to sleep now.” She pointed up at the ceiling where there were some other instruments. “There is a microphone and a speaker, so you will be able to talk to me if you need. The one beside is an infrared camera, to capture any movement you have in your sleep.”

“Okay.” I said. I could sense that she was going to leave soon. “Please. Don’t leave me here.”

She stood and moved to the door. “I must. I’m sorry. I will check with the speaker from the observation room.”

She left, and I was alone in the room. The leads and tubing that constrained me was uncomfortable, but I knew that the night was calling. Dark shadows seemed to grow and recede in the corners of the room.

“Angel?” I called.

wewilleatnowwewilleatnowwewilleatnow.

A large shadow grew on the wall opposite me. I gulped and drew further into the bed as I saw the outline of the devil, complete with angry red eyes. “Angel!”

Angel’s voice crackled over the speaker. “Yes, Mr. Stoolman, I can hear you. It is time to go to sleep now.”

I thrashed in my bed. The chair near the door fell over, on its own, and I cried out in fear. “Help!”

Angel’s voice came again over the speaker. “You must relax, Mr. Stoolman. I do not want to come in there and sedate you.”

Sedate? What would the point of that be?

“No!” I screamed.

Unless this wasn’t a sleep clinic at all.

I thrashed all the harder, determined to get out of the bed and get out of this place. Soon the door opened. Angel stepped into the room, holding a hypodermic needle.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I yanked at the leads and pulled at the tubing, but it was as if they had transformed into restraints that held me fast to the bed.

“I am sorry, Mr. Stoolman. I must save my daughter, and this is what I have to do.”

I wrenched an arm free and tried to push her away. Her face contorted and the devil I saw in the shadow appeared on her face. I recoiled instinctively, and she took my retreat as the opportunity to plunge the needle into my chest. She pressed the plunger down with a shaking hand and I watched, helpless, as tears tumbled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stoolman. So sorry. He said if I did this, I could get her back.”

Darkness that came from the floor and under the bed crawled up the covers and engulfed me. Cold, icy fear spread all around my limbs and I fought to keep my eyes open. “No! I can’t sleep. No! They will come! Help!”

My limbs stopped listening to my commands and my attempts to free myself became weaker and my screams more feeble. The darkness crept onto my face and into my eyes and ears before finally covering my entire face.

Sleep took me, and a dream began to form in my terrified mind.

The setting sun reflected harsh rays directly into my eyes as I pulled up to the abandoned strip mall. I drove into an empty parking stall and stared at the line of windows for a beat, scrap paper taped haphazardly on the inside, before I threw the car into park.