When Sam and I saw Paranormal Activity last year, I left the theater completely freaked out (and nauseous from all the hand-held camera work, a trend I am no fan of). I remember seeing the Blair Witch Project and feeling similarly nauseous, and while still jolted, I didn't feel like the fear I felt would follow me out of the theater and into my real life. After all, I don't camp, don't see why I would willingly follow a murderous witch into her woods, and I live on the opposite coast from New England.
But whatever demon that haunted the couple in the first Paranormal Activity struck a nerve that hit, literally, closer to home. I live in houses, go to bed at night, and I sleep, which apparently was enough for the demon's wrath. The movie fed off of the vulnerability of sleep, of being unaware and helpless to one's surroundings. Personally, it tapped into a dream I had years ago, long before the movie came into existence.
When I lived in Oakland, my micro-studio was nothing more than a bathroom, a kitchen, and a square room with a pull-out Murphy bed. When the bed was pulled out from the wall, there was a narrow aisle on both sides, one leading to the closet and the other leading to the bathroom, and the two aisles were bridged by a third that was partially blocked by my TV in the corner.
One night, I had a dream that was so vivid and real, I could not differentiate between the dream and reality. In it, I was sleeping, but as my dreams sometimes go, the person sleeping was me and not me at the same time. I was simultaneously sleeping and aware that I was watching myself sleep, that my "consciousness," if you can call it that, was both in my body and outside of it.
While still firmly planted in the dream, I awoke, got out of bed, and stumbled to the bathroom, not unlike what I do in reality on most nights. When I came back out, I noticed that my TV had turned itself on, and the room was illuminated by a bluish glow. On the screen was a bird's-eye view of the room, as if a surveillance camera had been installed in one corner, and there I was, still asleep in bed.
I walked closer to the TV and realized that there was a delay in the feed, that what I was seeing on screen actually happened already. As if on cue, TV-me woke up, got out of bed, and stumbled to the bathroom, off-camera. While TV-me was gone, a figure walked out of the closet. I could not see his face. He walked up the aisle, crossed in front of the TV, turned the corner and stopped at my pillow. He put his hand gently on it, as if to test its warmth. He then looked over to the bathroom and walked off-camera.
At that moment, I realized I was in danger. All of this had happened already, and the figure, whoever he was and with whatever intent he came, was right behind me while I was now watching an empty room on the screen. I swiveled around, but I never saw his face. I woke up with a start and turned on the lights. It was 2:30 AM. I could not fall back asleep that night.
Seeing Paranormal Activity reminded me of the mystery that is sleeping: what happens at night when I close my eyes? Well, according to the movie, a lot of stuff that I probably don't ever want to know about. Afterwards, I was paranoid and sketchy for a week, asking Sam, who wakes up before me to go to the gym, to open the shower curtain in the bathroom so I wouldn't have to wonder if anything lurked behind it.
Still, I was eager to see the sequel; fear can be fun and addictive when experienced vicariously. We finally did last night, and though I felt adequately stressed while watching it, jumped a couple of times, ultimately it was just OK. It explained a lot of the "whos" and "whys." I think that was where it failed for me. Part of what haunted me about the original was that it was so unexplained. The demon seemed obsessed with this girl with no motive whatsoever. The mystery of it made me believe that a demon could also find its way to obsess about me (since I'm so obsessable).
After the movie ended last night, I went upstairs, crawled into bed, and barely thought about it, the demon, the paranormal activities that might take place once I fall asleep. In a way, I'm thankful I don't have to live in fear of going into a darkened closet by myself for the next week, but really, I went to bed kind of disappointed because I felt totally comfortable, unafraid, and safe.
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