The Great Gatsby Essay

At the age of twenty-two, Bobby is someone who always looks for the rational explanation first and foremost. His tolerance for the fantastical and mysterious is limited but not prejudiced. Even when fearful, the likelihood of him cowering away from some unnatural fright without first trying to unspool its peculiarities in an effort to develop some logical explanation is almost nil. It was a compulsion cultivated from a young age; a swift and sprouting penchant for competitive play that became germane to Bobby’s personal development. He enjoyed the rigor of learning something new for the sole purpose that he could avoid unanswered questions and transcend the hollow existentialism of any unknown. If someone insists upon a thing he knows little

“I feed my addictive tendencies by collecting things” he says with a proud smile.

Bobby’s parents are recovering addicts, both sober for more than forty years now. A strict, almost religious abstinence from any alcohol, drugs, cigarettes, or other mood-altering substances stems from his fear of betraying himself and somehow them. An unforgettable dream that saw his father relapsing and dying as a result stands as a reminder to avoid the things that might cause him and his family significant emotional distress. In the place of any substances, Bobby consumes “actual items of worth”: sports memorabilia, hats, films, television shows, books, neck ties, lighters, trading cards, bobble heads, Boy’s Scout badges, people, experiences, random bits of rare knowledge to help elevate quotidian conversation—Bobby has a museum in the basement of his family’s home that could intimately detail his growth and a vault in his head that

Bobby is also a young man who yields to the mysteries he feels are beyond the human capacity to understand. Truth, as far as we know it, can only go so far and the realm of sleep is the stretch to which we remain restricted. Since both dreams and sleep paralysis remain stubborn to the real and rational world, Bobby relies on vagaries of belief and spiritual conviction. His spirituality is tailor-made to his logical specifications and others—ideas compiled from Taoism, Judaism, and Buddhism beliefs. And still none can do service in unpacking the trick of sleep paralysis—this transcultural monster, this dormant Nightmare that four out of ten people can expect to experience within their lifetime. The discourse surrounding sleep paralysis is filtered through a mixture of folklore and sleep psychology. The understanding from those within the hard sciences is also limited to a basic overarching knowledge—the physiology is consistent, the experiences are disparate, and the interpretations remain singular beasts. There are more creative names for the experience than the sterile and scientific sleep paralysis: In Newfoundland some call it The Old Hag or Night Hag. In Japan, kanashibari (meaning ‘to tie with an iron rope’). The Chinese call it meng yan meaning ‘ghost pressing on body’. The Mara is the phenomenon’s name in some Icelandic regions. While some simply call it