This sounds almost identical to an experience I had several years ago. I was living at a cultural institution where I was employed, not only a bastion
of heritage, but itself an historical structure, in which I had the simultaneous "good" fortune and necessity of living for several years, and it was
utterly deserted the time I lived there (the arrangement is an odd one to convey, but to develop comtext, the room in which I was sleeping, and soon
had this female entity disrupt me in, was very solitary, and otherwise, the buildings were creepy an atmosphere in general, reputed to be very
haunted, and that I was the only one there after-hours, for several years, made it more esoteric, meanwhile, spending my days on the site preserving
its art and artifacts, I was immersed in its energy, and perhaps that made me more susceptible to this place and that attracted this succubus). It was
the only odd event that occurred during my residency there, but quite memorable.
My routine had been firmly established at this job by the time this succubus appeared, though I had only recently taken-up my lodging in this
particular room, about which I immediately felt an ill-ease, but could not discern why; otherwise, it was old, and sufficient. I was in bed after a
long day at work at this same heritage site, and had simply read for the evening, had a light meal, and was drifting-off in an old bedroom, in which
many had slept over centuries, and was entirely empty, save for my bed in which I rested, and my unpacked boxes of belongings, including vast crates
of my books being stored there temporarily.
Among the books, and leading up to this evening by just a day or two before, I had acquired, to my delight, rare editions of the works of the Marquis
de Sade, of whom I am a consummate scholar and admirer, and these 1late-8th Century octavos
were themselves quite eerie in their storied past
and aged leather appearance, though I had not yet opened them to read them or inspect them, apart from at the auction house from which I had obtained
them, due to having recently acquired them once the sale had closed and been processed, my busy schedule, their fragility, and my having to work again
early the next day.
Well, that evening, as the OP likewise describes, I drifted-off easily and comfortably, but with a great intensity of lucid sleep. I awoke, I know not
how much later than after when I had laid down, to the feeling of thread, or perhaps cobwebs, or a spider or several (the very notion of which its own
terror!), in the very least, something silky and numerous, in strands, smelling of perfume, caressing my cheek (I was asleep on my side, my back to
the open space of my bedroom, and to the crates of rare books, including the rare de Sade editions, my face to the wall nearest my bed).
I squinted, as an icy chill grazed my neck, to see, with difficulty (in the same black, white, and grey the OP mentions), a female figure, perhaps a
young lady with long black hair and thin form, seemingly naked, though not entirely discernible, but certainly a female presence, whose long, black
hair, was hanging over my face, she seemingly leaning over my back, over me, onto the bed. She was rocking back and forth, but we were not engaged in
any coital bond of which I was aware, but she was sort of hovering, and motioning back and forth, wiping my face with her hair, essentially, she was
I stopped breathing, from fear and initial shock, coming out of my deep sleep, and becoming semi-wakingly conscious of this woman putting her weighty
knees onto my bed to climb on, on top of me, though I was on my side, still. She seemingly straddled my body, and I felt paralyzed, like a sleep
paralysis, but also with that internal sensation of intimacy, not love, not entirely sexual, and with no seminal release, that the OP described. She
felt entirely connected to me on a metaphysical level, as though I could not escape knowledge of her looking at me, let alone physically weighting
down on me, but my rational Self was freaking out, seeking to vanquish the vision or experience, whatever it and she were.
I then rolled onto my back, without willing myself to, very suddenly, only realizing I abruptly had done so when her black hair covered my face
entirely, some of it going into my mouth, making me cough, she astride me. I turned sharply to face the crates adjacent to me across the room, and
noticed, as she disappeared in that moment, giggling, that each of the rare de Sade editions (previously in the auction house crates, not removed
since I acquired them the day before), were neatly out on top of the crates and on the bedroom floor, geometrically aligned in a perfect line, tapered
from thickest edition to thinnest, their covers closed, facing me.
I could not sleep any longer that night, understandably, and promptly, though gently, replaced the rare first editions in their crates, and sealed
them, again (truly sealed them, as they were when I had gone to bed, with nails). I went to work that day once the sun rose, and tried my best to
forget the freaky night previously, but when I returned to my room that evening, as the entire institution went home for the day, and I, its lone
resident, sought to unlock my bedroom door and retire, hopefully with greater peace and calm than the night before, I felt something holding the
handle from the other side, hearing multiple male voices as though a man or some group of people were holding the handle from inside the room, and
leaning against it, blocking me from turning it and entering.
I thought nothing paranormal, but simply a security guard had not known I was living there (being the only one), and had maybe locked my bedroom door
using an alternate key or something, so as I went back down the stairs, about to seek out some person or way to get into my bedroom for the night, as
best I might manage on an empty heritage site, my bedroom door flew open, violently, and a cold, putrid-smelling air gushed out--the de Sade editions,
as that night before with their succubus, arranged, again, out of their crates, in the same, tapered, aligned, geometrical pattern on my floor and
atop their crate. I freaked-out, and consulted a confidante at that time more-versed in spiritual matters than I, who solemnly advised me to remove
those books from my room. I did, and had them stored elsewhere, with much greater security, and the problem never returned. I since reside in a
different location, though those first editions of de Sade are still under lock-and-key off-site from my main home.
Another confidant of mine informed me he had an almost identical succubus/de Sade-related encounter with his copies of the Marquis's works, though his
copies were just modern reprints in translation and paperback, and mine were verified originals published anonymously in the author's lifetime,
purchased at auction. Apart from the bombastic and extreme reputation of their contents, I have not ever felt an aversion to them, but neither had I
ever before, or since, encountered this succubus-like lady. The black hair absolutely consumed me with fear, and it seemed she was "attached" to me,
much as when jets refuel mid-air, but the energy she was consuming or seeking could not be transferred, thankfully, but the books being positioned
like that and my door being unable to open, then suddenly flying open in an otherwise entirely abandoned building and location, quite unsettled
edit on 11-4-2014 by Aquilifer because: (no reason given)