Faithfully Frazzled

As the young people might say, I’m shook. Today is St. Nicholas Day so my family decided to go out to dinner to celebrate. During the meal this evening my family and I were discussing some dreams I’ve had recently. I don’t put much stock in dreams although I do enjoy remembering them in the morning if I can. The sheer improbability of the different dream scenarios appeals to my own quirky nature, I suppose. Tonight though, at dinner, I decided to share a recurrent dream I had as a young child.

The dream itself is more of a moment, not a series of events like a typical dream. It’s quite dark in my childhood bedroom. The bed is pushed up against the double windows that face the front of the house. The curtains are drawn and I am lying facing the bedroom door opposite the windows. Suddenly, without opening my eyes I have the sensation that someone is standing over me, watching my reclining figure. I decide I must know who this is so I ever-so-carefully move my eyelids into a barely open position. Whatever is next to the bed is a deep, murky black. I dare to open my eyes fully and I see before me the shape of a man in a long, black coat reminiscent of something Jack the Ripper might have worn. Atop his head is a wide brimmed hat, also black. I don’t sense that he’s there to harm me, rather to perhaps check on me to ensure that I’m okay. After a moment he makes a swift exit by way of the windows and is gone. I fall asleep and feel confused but somehow comfortable with the intrusion.

As I finish telling my family this story my 15 year old nonchalantly says, “Oh yeah! That’s the Hat Man!” My face contorted into a grimace and I said, “excuse me. What?!” She pulls up a picture on her phone of the exact figure from my dream and my mouth fell agape. How? How can this be?

Unbeknownst to me, there is an entire phenomenon sleep scientists have documented worldwide regarding occurrences of the Hat Man. It appears to be a product of sleep paralysis or the moments between the deepest part of REM sleep and waking. Of course there are whackadoo theories circling the internet that these are “shadow people” or a race of aliens who’ve come to observe our race. Mmhmm. Okurrr. Over the years I’ve shared this story with various therapists, pastors, and priests. Not one of them has mentioned aliens but two separate people have suggested it was a manifestation of a loved one who’s passed on that my subconscious is missing. That’s as good an explanation as any, I suppose.

I’m still a bit shaken to have this lifelong memory be relegated to a commonplace occurrence but it’s just another reminder that I’m not that special and the world is an exceedingly bizarre place.