Sleep Paralysis; plus, the Mad Puppet Man

   
   "Sleep Paralysis; plus, the Mad Puppet Man"
    
   In the mid 1990's, when America cosmetically elected a leader from the Razorback Nation and movies moved away from machine gun metaphor, sweetly exposing the hypocrisy of violence and sex by way of American Beauty--I purchased a "Kermit the Frog" muppet, muppets being less insidious than possessed puppets, all in hopes of facing and consoling my terrifying fear of the Mad Puppet Man.  I'd strap the somewhat lime-green, artificial amphibian under a seat belt's safeguard in my V-8 Chevy and cruise around like a pseudo-Mercury delivering newspapers to the more pastoral parts of Nashville.
   Whether it was the Mad Puppet Man or extraterrestrials, when Sleep Paralysis finds and haunts you--it is like a dynamite stick burn of fear.  Laying helpless in bed or on the couch, unable to move anything, eyes open but weak; plus, lost to limbs that won't respond, and there is something behind you or hovering above.  Use your prayers and willpower; next, possibly you will become unchained from this weirdness.
   Are we pawns in the battle between the Supreme God and the lesser gods?  Is there a Web of Wyrd imposed on us, like a well-spun predestination thieving away any attempt at manifesting existentialism?  And, as a lab rat for the supernatural I know:  "Who am I to engage in hubris or scold the brilliant beyond with selfish pride?"  All we can do is correctly connect to the core of sublimity, steering ourselves into the Loving Heart of an Almighty God.  I hope.