As a kid, I struggled a lot with night terrors, pretty much every night I'd wake up drenched in sweat and gasping for air. My parents had been to countless doctors before I had even turned 10. By this time we were ready to give up. That was until we finally found something that could help.

Now, this wasn't exactly legal, but who were we to say no. So after this news, my mam went and picked up the medicine from a strangely dressed man and rushed home. I can't remember the name of the medicine, just that it tasted horrible. They were little pill capsules with weird markings etched into them.

I was so happy the first night, I actually had a nice, peaceful dream. I was finally cured of the curse of my nightmare, though obviously I still had nightmares, just very far and few between.

I still took the pills as I grew up, during this time, I went through a couple girlfriends, but they all left me because 'I was too secretive'. Which I mean how couldn't I be, I'm taking medication that is illegal, to stop me from having nightmares, at the ripe age of 22. If I was my girlfriend, I'd be suspicious too.

Anyway, once I reached my 23rd birthday, I had a stupid idea to stop. I wanted to stop taking the pills, just to see if I could do it on my own. It took a lot of persuasion and paperwork, but I got my way in the end.

The first night was just like how I was with the medicine, fell asleep and woke up at the same time, no nightmares.

The second night was basically the same, although I went to bed an hour later than usual

The third night was a weird one, there was no dream and I woke up just after 4 am, compared to the usual 7 am and struggled to fall back asleep

The fourth night, this was when my dreams started to become twisted, and I also had sleep paralysis. I didn't know it at first. Until I saw a long, dishevelled bony hand make its was out from under my bed and slowly towards my ankle. I tried to scream and yank my leg away, but to no avail. When I finally woke myself, I was gasping and trembling.

The fifth/sixth night, both these nights were the same as the fourth, though I began to adjust to the feeling of the adrenaline and fear.

The seventh night. This night was by far the worst. I didn't just see the hand. I saw it in it's full glory. Well it wasn't really glory. It had to had been 7ft tall, it's shoulders pushing on the ceiling, it's bones strained against the thin purpley-red layer of flesh. Though the most horrific part was it's face. It's hollowed our eyes pierced through me, sending chills up my spine. It's mouth was torn into a jagged smile, from where I lay I could just about see the patches of flesh that were missing. My breath was caught in my throat as I watched it rip away the old peeling wallpaper and weak wall panels of my bedroom and twist itself uncomfortably into my walls. All with a sinister smirk on his face

When I recovered from my sleep paralysis, I just lay in the same spot, waiting for something else to pop out a corner. And that's when I heard it. A dull scratching in the wall. I thought to myself for a moment, if I had just watched something crawl into my walls, and now I'm hearing noises, perhaps I should phone someone. The rest of that night was a blur, I just know I demanded that my parents talk to me, and tell me what was really in my medication.

She had told me, that they weren't to help with my night terrors at all. They were to stop me from seeing demons, apparently this strange guy she brought them off, was some sort of priest or exorcist. I didn't really know what to think or how to feel. All those bad dreams and sleep paralysis as a kid was never really just a bad dream. I've just been haunted since the day I was born.