Their wild brethren, though, remained hostile, and to this day have been known to attack humans our attacks on them, it should be noted, have been far more frequent and devastating. Except maybe a wolf with like, a top hat or something. Fast-forward several thousand years to ancient Greece and the dog is firmly planted in mythology with Cerberus, the three-headed hound that guards the underworld. The Aztecs also deified the dog as Xolotl , who carried the sun through the underworld.
So just as our relationship with wolves was complicated, so too is our relationship with dogs the world over. When he was around three to five years old, he awoke to the patter of feet. I tried to scream but I found it impossible. The animal got to my bedroom door and then vanished as quick as it has appeared. I then managed to scream and my mum came in to calm me down. Not being able to speak or move while still seemingly conscious is a classic symptom of sleep paralysis , which happens when the brain and the body are out of sync during sleep.
During REM sleep, your muscles are so relaxed that they're essentially worthless which, by the way, may be an evolutionary trick to keep you from acting out your dreams and injuring yourself.
This would explain why Sherwood was unable to scream at first, then eventually recovered his voice. Some people like Sherwood even hallucinate and see a giant black dog, for example. But why would reports of the hellhound be largely consistent? Well, at least until we come up with a good treatment for sleep paralysis. There are other stories, though, of wide-awake folks seeing evil dogs out in the open. I was just going to call it to send it home, when it suddenly changed its shape, and turned into a black donkey standing on its hind legs.
This creature had two glowing eyes, which appeared to me to be almost as big as saucers. I looked at it in astonishment for a minute or so, when it suddenly vanished. Fun fact: Hellhounds love car rides, just like regular dogs. So instead I do what any right-thinking millennial would do and message him on Instagram we moved the conversation over from the app a while ago.
It certainly seems confined for the woman on the top floor who prances back and forth on the phone all day, presumably working from home, staring out the window on her calls and perched at her laptop at the desk near the window right in my eye-line.
She used to have her windows open, which offer broad and sweeping views from high up, but she has closed the blinds now in what I can only assume is a furious reaction to not being able to enjoy the outside world due to lockdown. Or perhaps she just saw me looking in on procrastination breaks and got triggered. Back on the other side, a family with young kids crowd at the small, square window on the top floor room directly opposite mine.
The following day, hungover, we obviously never dream of acknowledging one another. During the daytimes, people queue down the side road that splits the older houses and the newer ones to access the bank in an age of social distancing. Sometimes my flatmate, also working from home, pops into my room and we discuss the length of the queue.
Everyone has to join that queue, I remember. For the bank, or for the supermarket, which I can also see if I peer further to the left. It sort of democratises the lockdown for all of us, that queue: no matter which of the houses we each live in —— nice or shabby —— we all still have to join it.
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