Every night I felt that someone was in my house, so I installed a camera in my room — and when I reviewed the footage in the morning, I was horrified 😱😲 Every night I felt the same thing: someone was in my house. The feeling didn’t appear right away.
At first, there were only sounds — faint, almost impossible to notice. The floor creaking, as if someone were taking a cautious step. A dull thud — as if a piece of furniture had been bumped into. Sometimes a barely audible rustle, like someone opening the closet or rummaging through my belongings. I lay there in the dark, frozen, afraid to even breathe….CONTINUE READING IN BELOW\
It felt as though a stranger was walking through my apartment. Not loudly, not aggressively — on the contrary, too carefully.
As if this “someone” knew my home well and didn’t want to be noticed. I heard the steps most often in the middle of the night, between two and four, when the whole body feels heavy and the mind seems to drift.
In the morning, strange things awaited me. Items were never where I had left them: my phone — on the bed, even though it had been on the desk the night before; clothes — thrown over the chair; on the floor — things I definitely hadn’t placed there. Sometimes the room was in complete disarray, as if someone had gone through the closet. I blamed it on tiredness, on forgetfulness, convincing myself that I simply didn’t remember.
A few times, I even woke up in the night with the clear sensation that someone was watching me. But I didn’t open my eyes — I told myself it was just a dream, just my imagination. Until the fear became too real.
One morning I woke up trembling and realized: I couldn’t go on like this. I installed a camera in my room. I pointed it at the bed and left it recording all night. I was certain that if someone really was in the house, the camera would show it.
The next morning, I sat down to review the footage. And what I saw on the screen made my blood run cold. 😲😱 I had expected anything — except this. Continue in the first comment 👇👇
At first — nothing. I’m sleeping, motionless. But then… I saw myself slowly sit up. Sit on the edge of the bed. Stand up.
The camera captured every movement — calm, steady. I walked around the room, opened the closet, took out clothes, and threw them on the bed and the floor.
I picked up my phone, looked at it, put it somewhere else. I brushed past the chair, knocking it over. Then I returned to the bed and lay down again, as if nothing had happened.
I stared at the screen, barely able to breathe. There was no one in the house. No one except me.
I remembered none of it. Not the steps, not the movements, not the mess. All those nights, all that fear, all those sounds — it was me. My sleepwalking. My nighttime self, which I had never known existed.
And the scariest part wasn’t that someone had been walking through my house. The scariest part was that this “someone” had been me all along — and that now I face a long journey of treatment.
