The following is a recollection of a true story from two or three years ago:
I was camping with my family, we had just gone to bed and I was laying down in my tent, one solitary arm sticking out of the sleeping bag (BIG FUCKING MISTAKE). I feel something move on my arm, open my eyes, and there's a huntsman the size of a desk fan crawling up my arm. In one fluid movement I swatted it off my arm, leapt out of the sleeping bag, broke through the door on the tent and fell into the still warm ashes of the fire from earlier.
I didn't sleep that night.
Never found the fucker either.