One Fateful Morning

Story Published 6 Jan, 2023 · 709 Words

A weirdly true story. One fateful morning, after a night spent working with both of my parents at work, I sloppily dropped onto my bed. I was immediately pulled into a seemingly endless slumber, exhausted from the long hours I had spent in front of my computer. Yet, just as I had drifted off into a dream, I was abruptly jolted awake by a feeling of pure dread. A strange sensation lingered in a corner of my mind, overtaking me bit by bit. It was as if I was being watched. From the corner of my eye, I saw a figure move, a woman silently beckoning me towards her with a bony finger. My heart pounded in my chest as fear coursed through my veins as I tried to make sense of the situation. In an effort to clearly see the unknown woman lurking beside my bedside, I tried to move my head. Panic seized me as I realized I couldn't. My mind was awake, but my body refused to obey. I struggled against the invisible forces holding me captive but to no avail. I strained every muscle, desperately trying to move a foot, a finger, my head, anything to break free from this waking nightmare. But my efforts were in vain. I was completely immobilized, a prisoner in my own body. I was trapped in a state of sleep paralysis, and the fear that coursed through me was palpable. I tried to move my eyes, desperate for any sign of escape, and I was relieved to find that I still could. But the relief was short-lived as I realized that this was no mere dream. Dreams are always strange and unpredictable entities, a manifestation of one's deepest desires, fears, and subconscious. They can be incredibly vivid, with colours more vibrant than the real world and details so sharp that they seem to cut into one's very being. However, in these dreams, there is always something amiss, a feeling of unease that permeates every thought and sensation. But the experience I was having was not like that. There was a sense of clarity, a lucidity that was beyond anything I had ever encountered before. Every detail was crisp and too precise, too overwhelmingly real. The memories of falling asleep in this very position flooded back, haunting me with their clarity. But now, a stranger stood in my room, an ominous presence that defied explanation. How had they entered my room without a sound, undetected? The world I found myself in was not a world of surrealistic, dream-like proportions, but a world that was too real, too terrifying to be a mere dream. This was no dream, but a waking nightmare. All the while, the woman curled and twisted her bony finger as if calling out to me. Just as I thought all was lost, a sudden wave of drowsiness consumed me, stealing me away into slumber. My heart was racing, my fear at an all-time high, but the pull of sleep was too strong to resist. And in what felt like an instant, I was awake again, this time with the ability to move. With shaking hands, I turned my head to face the figure that had been so close to me only moments before. But there was nothing there. I sprang from the bed, grabbing my tantō, a Japanese short sword, from its place on my bookshelf. I frantically searched my room and the rest of my home, brandishing my tantō like a weapon. But I found no trace of the mysterious woman and the doors were all locked from the inside, and yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was still not right. Had it all been a dream all along? Or was it something more sinister, a manifestation of my sleep paralysis? Despite the all-clear and the lack of any tangible evidence, one thing continues to haunt me to this day. The moment I rose from my bed, I noticed the curtains at my door fluttering, as if someone had just passed through them mere seconds before. This single detail has left me to ponder what truly occurred during that dreadful morning, my mind constantly revisiting that feeling of absolute terror, and wondering if I was truly alone in my own home.

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