Hello, first post here. I would like to have opinions about what happened to me a few months ago. I’m 35M.
Last may, a fever overcame me overnight. An inexplicable sadness took hold of me, plunging me into a deep melancholy. This month corresponded strangely to the 7th anniversary of a friend’s death. (just want to clarify). I won’t go into more detail, but it has had an impact on my mood and my mental health over the years.
Since this fever, every morning, I’d wake up with a strange heaviness in my chest, an urge to speak that turned into a ball of anguish in my throat. I couldn’t and still can’t explain why this morning insouciance metamorphosed into despair as the day wore on. Was it the air itself, invisible and elusive, carrying unknown powers? Or was it something far more sinister that lurked in the shadows, watching for me as soon as I strayed from my home? I have no idea.
Even though I was feeling less and less the symptoms of fever, I tried to take a walk along a river that’s just a stone’s throw from my house, to go into a little more detail, I can see this river from my house, actually. But a feeling of terror that I’d never felt before took hold of me. Shivers began to run down my skin, my nerves tensed like ropes ready to snap, and a feeling of impending doom began to invade me. After that, I hurried home, as if something sinister were chasing me, lurking in the shadows.
I was terrified, there’s no other word for it. Just a month ago, I was in great shape, in perfect health. But now, I was prey to a kind of illness that seemed far darker. The nights were worse. I’d wake up sweating, plagued by terrifying nightmares, haunted by visions of death and desolation.
I decided to see a doctor, in despair over the insomnia that was eating away at me. His diagnosis only reinforced my anguish. My pulse was racing, my eyes seemed dilated, and my nerves were vibrating uncontrollably. Yet he found no alarming symptoms to explain this distress. He simply advised me to take a few days’ rest, and days off of works. Which I did. Despite his recommendations, I couldn’t help feeling that something much darker and insidious was lurking behind my symptoms. Everything seemed almost ineffective against the nightmarish visions that continued to haunt my nights.
Nothing seemed to change, and I feel like I was becoming a stranger. As the evening drew on, an inexplicable anxiety invaded me for no reason, as if the night concealed some unspeakable threat. I hurried to dinner, but the food seemed to lose all its taste. I tried to immerse myself in reading, but the words blurred before my eyes, and the letters became indistinct. I found myself wandering around my living room, under the weight of a confused and irrepressible fear, a terror of sleep and of bed.
When I did fall asleep, my existence became a kind of constant struggle against this nocturnal terror. I wondered if I was going mad, if these strange symptoms were a sign of impending dementia. The night, this darkness that frightened me so much, became my worst enemy, and I dreaded each sunset as if it were my last. My condition became increasingly unbearable, and I was wondering if I’ll ever be able to escape the anguish that grips me.
Around ten o’clock in the evening, I went up to my room, a place that used to be a source of comfort. But now, anguish had taken hold of me. As soon as the door closed behind me, an irrational fear seized my mind. I double-locked the door, as if my life depended on it, although I couldn’t explain exactly what I feared. I searched my room frantically, inspecting every nook and cranny, as if an invisible threat were lurking in the shadows. The cupboards, under the bed, everything was scrutinized in minute detail. Yet everything seemed normal, nothing abnormal on the horizon. Why this persistent apprehension? Why this terror of sleep and the bed?
But I managed to sleep that night, I managed to fall asleep. The first few hours were apparently peaceful. Yet this ephemeral quietude was shattered by a nightmarish specter. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t even move, I tried, I just couldn’t. I couldn’t move. I woke up in a panic, covered in sweat. I turned on the light of my room, there was nothing and no one. I was all alone.
After this crisis, I went back to sleep as if nothing had happened, calmly, until the morning.
I felt like I was the plaything of my imagination, unless I really was sleepwalking. In any case, I had the impression that my panic was bordering on insanity. Anyway, a few hours of walking were enough to put me back on my feet.
Does this happened to anyone else ? If yes, then please let me know.