I told my therapist and he said it was something held over from childhood, probably the reason for my pubescent night terrors that still manifested to this day. Something terrible had happened to me that my waking mind couldn’t (or wouldn’t) recall, and now it had taken the shape of a monster in the night. It was so poetic it was almost sickening.
We worked on these repressed memories but I always came up empty-handed, and at night, the monster moved closer.
Had I been abused by a parent? Not that I could recall. Ostracized in school? No, I was fairly popular as a kid. Saw a scary movie when I was too young to process it? Pretty sure that wasn’t the case. My days became a blur of wondering what had happened, what inside me was broken. I imagined the source of my night terrors as an alarmed bird caught in an attic, fluttering helplessly against my skull, trying in vain to get out but always hitting the rafters and tumbling down again.