It all began with a series of minor pranks, small items mysteriously moving places and doors opening and closing as I moved around the house.
At first, I did not pay much attention to it, thinking it had no significant impact on my life. Occasionally, it did give me a weird feeling, but then I came across an article discussing how our brains can go into autopilot mode, causing us to overlook routine actions. This happens frequently, whether we are driving, working, or cooking.
For example, one day I found myself home alone, cooking dinner, chopping onions. As I sliced an onion in half, one of the halves jumped from the chopping board, landing in between my feet. I picked up the onion and, and when standing back the knife I was using was now on the opposite side of the sink.
Funny that these peculiar occurrences only took place when I was by myself at home, never in the presence of others, and never in hotels or any other locations — only at my own house.
Also my keys kept being moved to different parts of the house. I had a key holder by the door, which I always left my keys on it. I am a very OCD person and I would not just drop my keys on the table like everyone else does. However, on one of those hectic mornings before heading to work, my keys were never on the holder. Instead, I would find them on the sofa or, believe it or not, even inside the fridge.
Various other peculiar things occurred as well. The toilet seat, for instance, would mysteriously bang overnight, and the living room light would be inexplicably on when I woke up.
I contemplated the possibility that I could have been sleepwalking, it seemed like a plausible explanation. In my younger years, I used to sleepwalk quite frequently. My mother would often complain about my late-night ramblings on random topics, and it was not uncommon to wake up in the living room after having gone to bed in my bedroom.
…
I found myself ten days home alone. In the first two days of solitude, I had recurring sleep paralysis episodes, each one more distressing than the other. When it happened, I would struggle to breathe, feeling like someone was putting weight on my chest and watching over me. In the worst episodes, I could even see shadowy figures dressed in black, moving around my bedroom, and at times, even passing through walls.
I began to notice a horrifying pattern: the frequency and intensity of these episodes seemed linked to my mental health, becoming worse following how my depression was.
On the third day of my isolation, I received the devastating news that I had been let go from my job. I had saved up only enough to sustain myself for a couple of months. The economic craziness brought on by another lockdown had left companies with no money, and mass layoffs had become the norm. I found myself among the casualties.
I struggled to sleep that night, spending three hours mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, my hand and fingers were hurting from the repetitive scrolling. When I finally drifted off, a sequence of repetitive nightmares started. I was trapped in an endless cycle of visions followed by a strong fever. I remained in bed for more than ten hours, never fully awake, but emerging from this trance-like state, sweaty and feeling like an unwell child.
…
On the fourth day, I found myself unable to sleep again, my mind unable to focus on anything. A severe migraine had taken hold, followed by a panic attack. I felt like I couldn’t breathe again, my thoughts were consumed by the uncertainty of my future, and the horrible feeling of having to break the news to my mother on my unemployment was heavily on my mind.
…
On the fifth day, after two sleepless nights, I decided it was time to seek help. The lady behind the pharmacy counter could see just how desperately I needed help. She gave me some strong sleep meds. I went back home, made myself a cup of tea, and then jumped into bed.
The medication was incredibly strong and put me to sleep almost instantly. That night I had the most vivid out-of-body experience I had ever had.
I found myself seated on my aunt’s bed, looking around her bedroom, which looked exactly as it did in real life. I could feel my body, and my breathing, and hear the ticking of the clock. It was an amazingly impressive sensation. I could not help but wonder how my aunt would react if she were to see me in her house. Would she be scared?
I left the bedroom, which was located at the far back end of the house. There was a corridor with several doors leading to the kitchen. As I slowly walked, I could feel my feet touching the floor, and I could hear voices coming from the kitchen. It was my aunt, her husband, and her daughter, having dinner at the table, chatting. I decided not to confront them and for the sake of curiosity, I moved my aunt’s keys to a different location and turned some lights on. Cruel, I know.
…
On the eighth day of being home alone, I decided to wake up early, forget about everything that happened over that last week and focus on getting a new job. I awoke with a strange sense that I had discovered the mystery behind those bizarre occurrences. Could they be other people’s out-of-body experiences? The thought stayed in my mind as I continued with my morning routine.
After a shower, I started dressing up. I wanted to look nice to impress possible interviewers. I meticulously put on my clothes and looked outside. The rain was strong, loud and dark — no signs of people or cars, only the sound of the rain against the window.
When I entered the living room, there he was!
There, seated by the door, was a figure entirely dressed in black, their presence matching the grey day outside. Their penetrating eyes onto me, we found ourselves in a face-to-face encounter.
I was not sure how to react, my heart strongly beating in my chest, the culmination of a long journey that had brought me here, finally meeting the visitor.
In that intense moment, the only part of their body I could focus on was their eyes, which were so fixed on mine that made me dizzy.
I took a long deep breath and was finally able to ask the question that had been weighing on me for so long:

“Who are you?”

By Thyago Falconi