Paraphrasing a famous quote, we might say that “many ghosts haunt Italy.” From the northern Alps to Sicily, Italian folklore is filled with mysterious stories, chilling legends, and, most of all, terrifying creatures that dwell in a world suspended between reality and imagination. In Italy, even a mountain can turn into a sleeping giant, and the waters of Lake Garda are said to hide Bennie, our local version of the Loch Ness monster—although this creature was eventually identified as a massive catfish.

Often, the threat of a ravenous monster serves as a useful bedtime warning for children reluctant to go to sleep. A wicked witch who lives down a dark alley is usually enough to keep the most rebellious child from wandering alone into the night.

Figures like the Mazaròl, the child-eater from the Dolomites, and Sardinia’s Maria Farranca, a witch lurking in wells, are classic examples of monstrous deterrents for even the bravest youngsters. Most Italian parents have probably used the threat of a wolf, an ogre, or a witch to keep their children in line, and with great success. The true power of these creatures lies in giving shape to children’s most primal fears, ones difficult to express at such a young age.

One can only imagine how many Friulian children have gone to bed early to avoid an encounter with Boborosso, a terrifying giant who collects disobedient children in his basket. In such cases, these fantastical beings become part of the family “support team,” helping parents manage their children’s behavior by tapping into their deepest fears, such as being eaten or kidnapped. Without overstating it, some parents even use these monsters to soften harsh truths. After all, it’s much easier to tell a child not to wander far from home because of a werewolf than to explain the real dangers posed by strangers.

But what happens if these monsters of the Italian folklore linger in the adult mind? While they may lose their function as warnings against risky behaviors, they still maintain their power to frighten.

Once we’ve grown up and understand that leaning over a well is simply dangerous—and not because a beastly claw will reach out and grab us—some people remain captivated by these beings from “suspended worlds,” sometimes blaming them for events they cannot otherwise explain.

Certain sleep disorders, for example, create sensations of terror that can be easily attributed to some supernatural presence—especially for those with a vivid imagination… or an Abruzzese grandmother!

In fact, one of the most imaginative explanations for sleep apnea comes from Abruzzo. Obstructive sleep apnea, a severe sleep disorder, causes temporary respiratory arrest during sleep. When the sleeper wakes, they may feel completely paralyzed, unable to speak or move, and sometimes experience vivid, terrifying hallucinations of monstrous figures, heightened by the panic of being unable to move.

For those who find a medical explanation unsatisfactory, Abruzzese folklore offers a more creative alternative: Pantàfica, a wicked ghostly figure who takes the form of a pale, bony old woman with red eyes and tattered clothes. She sits on the chest of her unlucky victim, immobilizing their arms and legs, and presses down on their mouth to stifle any scream.

But don’t worry! There are remedies to keep Pantàfica at bay—some suggested by doctors, like sleeping on one’s side, and others uniquely devised for her. For example, placing a bag of sand or legumes by the bed might keep the old woman busy counting them all night, distracting her from her mischief, since, like most witches or vampires, she can’t resist the urge to count tiny objects. As a true Abruzzese, Pantàfica also appreciates a bottle of wine, accepting it as a gift to sip until dawn when she vanishes with the dark night. And if you’re fortunate enough to have a horse nearby, you’ll sleep soundly as she’ll spend the night braiding its mane instead of disturbing your rest.

Similar figures appear throughout Italian folklore, taking different forms and names across regions, all serving to explain a deeply unsettling physiological experience. Perhaps these tales show that blaming a monster for one’s fears is a timeless and effective remedy for all ages.