I'm not paralyzed, now. 

I don't suffer from sleep paralysis, thankfully enough. I'm perfectly capable of moving my body however I'd like from the moment I'm here, and I'm here. 

I try to move my body, and I just - can't, the impulse flickering into existence and out of existence in a bare moment, like the flaring of an almost lit match. 

My body is... heavy, and warm. It feels almost soaked in, lathered and swaddled in the hazy liquid heat, bathed in sticky steam and left to rest. My breath comes out easily, but my lips are still, frozen, whistling with the little eddies of air flowing out of my still chest. 

My arm twitches slowly, experimentally, soft felt-like pebbles of the sheets playing against my groping fingers as I squeeze it, and hold it, cradling it up close to me. 

My feet twitch, knocking against the folds and swirls and tangles of blanketing bedsheets, still far from the cold of still idly circulating air. 

My ears twitch, a little, as the dull dim hum of the fan registers properly for the first time this morning.