Amidst the creaking timbers and decaying walls of our old house in Kolkata, formerly known as Calcutta—the colonial capital of the East India Empire—unraveled a sinister tale, infamous for haunting and spooky stories of black magic. My father acquired this dwelling from our former landlord in the 1970s, who, in turn, had purchased it from local farmers back in the late 1940s. The building’s ancient structure, adorned with a roof of brick tiles, stood as a witness to the passage of time and the secrets it held.
The few descendants of those farmers, with whom I played as a child, shared eerie legends with us. They claimed our house was erected upon their ancestors’ sacred burial ground, and that restless spirits still wandered the halls. They urged us to perform rituals to appease these ethereal beings, but I, a skeptic, dismissed their tales as mere folklore, borne of an uneducated family’s imagination.
Fast forward twelve years—a time when I had completed my college studies and embarked on a job hunt. My father had erected a new building on the vacant part of our plot, and I eagerly sought refuge in the unfinished top floor. My sister and her husband still resided in the old portion of the house, and I longed for solitude after years of sharing a room with her.
Setting up a small bed, I began residing in the new room. One fateful day, as I immersed myself in a book, an old coin inexplicably fell from above, catching me off guard. The room was new, and I was alone; the door securely shut. No rational explanation could account for the coin’s sudden appearance.
From that day on, a mysterious dark cat became a nightly visitor, silently observing me from the shadows. While I initially paid little attention, an unsettling presence enveloped the room, as though unseen eyes were constantly fixed on me. Gradually, I started feeling unwell, and eerie dreams began to plague my nights—dreams where the walls seemed to close in, crushing me beneath their weight. These vivid nightmares left me drenched in cold sweat, gasping for breath upon awakening.
In search of respite, I sought meditation techniques to deal with my haunting dreams and stumbled upon the concept of lucid dreaming. Finding solace in the guided audio sessions that relaxed my weary body, I hoped the specter’s gaze would fade away. Alas, the feeling of being watched persisted, unyielding to my efforts.
Driven by curiosity and a desire to confront the enigmatic presence head-on, I ventured into the realm of astral projection. A technique called Wake Induced Lucid Dreaming became my gateway. As I lay in a state between wakefulness and slumber, itchy sensations tested my resolve, but I pressed on, following the audio instructions to navigate this uncharted territory.
And then it happened—a chilling moment that would forever haunt my memories. Gazing back at the bed from my astral form, I beheld a sight that froze my blood. There, lying motionless, was a ghastly apparition—my own physical body, eerily lifeless. Panic engulfed me as my consciousness wavered, the astral realm dissolving around me.
Lying there, frustrated and bored, I grew disheartened as the astral projection attempt appeared futile. No dreams, no flight out of my body—just an ordinary room, devoid of any supernatural experiences. I sighed, deciding to abandon the endeavor, and rose from the bed to head toward the washbasin.
But then, an ominous sensation gripped me, akin to the feeling of forgetting something crucial before leaving the house. A haunting instinct compelled me to glance back at the bed. And there, frozen in terror, I beheld a sight that still sends shivers down my spine to this day.
There, on the bed, lay a form identical to mine—a lifeless replica of myself, seemingly unconscious. Fear clenched at my heart as the realization washed over me—I was witnessing my own physical body, while my consciousness seemed to stand apart, observing this eerie scene.
Every hair on my body stood on end as I struggled to comprehend this surreal revelation. Was I trapped between realms? Was this a sinister dream, or had I inadvertently crossed some unseen threshold into the unknown?
A profound dread consumed me, and instinctively, I attempted to re-enter my body, to re-establish the bond between my consciousness and my corporeal form. Gradually, the boundary between the two worlds blurred, and I found myself awakening in my body once more, the apparition vanishing like a phantom in the night.
Terror clung to my soul, and I could not shake the feeling of being watched by unseen eyes. From that moment on, the allure of astral projection waned, replaced by an instinctive fear of venturing beyond the realm of the living.
Even now, as time has passed, the memory remains vivid, etched into the recesses of my mind—a chilling reminder of the inexplicable and the lurking mysteries that dwell in the darkness of the unknown.
Although I continued to have lucid dreams, I vowed never to revisit the realm of astral projection. Thankfully, no other paranormal occurrences plagued me within the confines of that house again. But the memory of that eerie encounter lingers on, a chilling reminder of the dark forces that once inhabited our home, waiting to ensnare unsuspecting souls.