I had never been one for spontaneous purchases, especially not late at night. Yet there I was, lit only by the dim glow of my laptop screen, diving into the depths of Temu’s endless digital marketplace. With a slightly furrowed brow and a skeptical eye, I scrolled past ads for all manner of gadgets and gizmos until something caught my eye—a sleek, minimalist smartwatch listed for an unbelievable four dollars. It was absurd, almost laughable, but irresistibly enticing.
“At that price, it’s practically free,” I murmured to myself, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. The deal seemed too good to pass up. A new gadget could be just the thing to help me turn a new leaf, to shake off the cobwebs of a routine that had become too sedentary, too predictable. Encouraged by a recent doctor’s visit that had not gone as I’d hoped—highlighting my all-too-sedentary lifestyle—I was determined to make a change. A smartwatch, I reasoned, could be the perfect motivator to get me walking, maybe even hiking. With a few more moments of hesitation brushed aside by a rising tide of optimism, I clicked ‘Buy Now’, and braced myself for a few moments of fun, that I was expecting to have with the watch, before it would get old.
The package arrived much quicker than expected, its arrival heralding a wave of excitement. The watch itself was a thing of beauty: sleek, with a touch-responsive, brightly lit display and a comfortable strap that felt secure on my wrist. “Well, aren’t we fancy?” I joked aloud as I synced it with my phone, impressed by its array of features—step counter, heart rate monitor, sleep tracker, and more. The initial setup was a breeze, and I found myself checking the watch every few minutes, fascinated by the data it collected.
Eager to test its capabilities, I started incorporating more activity into my daily routine. Morning walks became a part of my new regime, each step recorded and celebrated by the watch. I would often glance down at my wrist, a smile spreading across my face as the step count rose. It was like having a personal cheerleader, one that encouraged me to push a little further, walk a little longer.
The first few evenings were spent exploring the various features of the watch, delving into the sleep tracking functions with particular interest. That first night, after setting the sleep tracker, I lay in bed with a sense of accomplishment. I was already imagining how this small device would transform my health, picturing myself a few months down the line, fitter and healthier, all thanks to this four-dollar marvel.
I found myself talking about the watch to anyone who would listen, often pulling up my sleeve to show off my technological companion. “Four dollars,” I would boast, the pride evident in my voice, “and look at all it does!” My friends and colleagues were equally impressed, some even asked for the link to purchase one for themselves.
The watch had quickly become my favorite topic of conversation, a constant presence on my wrist, and, surprisingly, in my thoughts. As I lay in bed at the end of those first few weeks, I felt a deep sense of contentment. I had taken a step towards a better me, and this little gadget was leading the way.
But as the charm of the initial weeks began to wear thin, a startling anomaly shattered the routine I had so comfortably settled into. It occurred unexpectedly, on a seemingly ordinary morning, when I was jolted awake by my alarm after what I thought was a good night’s rest. Groggily, I tapped the watch to check my sleep data, expecting the usual seven or eight hours. Instead, the screen displayed a number that made no sense at all: 23 hours of sleep.
I blinked at the display, certain I was misreading it. “Twenty-three hours?” I muttered to myself, rubbing my eyes and staring again. The number hadn’t changed. A wave of confusion washed over me. Had I somehow set the tracker incorrectly? I spent a few moments trying to recalibrate the watch, assuming it was just a glitch. But deep down, a small seed of unease took root, its origins not yet clear.
Trying to shake off the bewildering start to my day, I went about my morning routine, only to encounter more oddities that seemed to escalate the sense of disarray. My coffee tasted unusually bitter, as if the beans were from a completely different blend than the one I had used for years. The news anchor on my morning TV program seemed to repeat the same headlines in a loop, her expressions unnaturally stiff. Everything felt slightly off, like a well-rehearsed play where every actor was slightly out of sync.
The feeling of dissonance grew as I left for work. The streets seemed unfamiliar, with storefronts appearing as if they had subtly shifted overnight. People I passed smiled with a delay, their greetings sounding hollow and rehearsed. The city itself felt like a stage set, constructed and artificial.
Despite these growing inconsistencies in my daily world, the most pressing issue returned each morning when I checked my watch. The day after the initial shock, it recorded 36 hours of sleep. My attempts to dismiss the bizarre readings as technical malfunctions began to wane, replaced by a gnawing suspicion that something far more profound was at play.
With each passing day, the data from the watch grew more alarming. I found myself obsessively checking it, trying to find patterns or explanations in the numbers it presented. The device that had once provided motivation and insight was now a source of constant anxiety. My sleep, according to the watch, spanned days at a time, yet I woke each morning feeling as if I hadn’t slept at all.
This paradoxical situation reached a tipping point when, one morning, the watch declared I had been asleep for 96 hours. This impossibility was compounded by physical evidence that contradicted the digital data; my apartment showed signs of daily living, meals prepared and consumed, clothes changed, and personal hygiene maintained. The disconnect between what the watch reported and the reality I experienced was jarring.
My life began to feel like a waking dream, each day blurred with the next, reality tinged with surreal qualities that I couldn’t explain. The more I observed the discrepancies, the more they multiplied, weaving a tapestry of confusion that threatened to engulf me. Was it possible that my perception was compromised, or was the watch manipulating my sense of reality?
This cascade of doubts led me to question the very nature of my existence. Was I awake, living each day as I believed, or was I lost in an intricate dream, my consciousness manipulated by a four-dollar gadget? As these questions burrowed deeper into my psyche, the world around me continued to warp, challenging everything I thought I knew about my life and the technology I had once trusted.
As the discrepancies between my smartwatch data and my perceived reality deepened, my sense of unease transformed into a visceral dread. Each morning began with a ritualistic glance at the watch, which now seemed less like a tool and more like a harbinger of chaos. The numbers on its display grew increasingly absurd, suggesting not just lengthy periods of sleep but impossible spans of time that stretched across days.
Then, the notifications started.
At first, they were innocuous enough, simple reminders to stand up or take a few steps. But soon, they began to change in tone and content, becoming messages that seemed almost sinister in their implications. One night, as I lay in bed, struggling to find sleep amidst my growing anxiety, the watch vibrated softly against my wrist. The screen lit up with a message that made my blood run cold:
“You are sleeping.”
I sat up, heart pounding, and looked around my dimly lit bedroom. The familiar contours of my furniture looked menacing in the half-light, and the shadows seemed to cling a little too tightly to the corners. Was this a prank? A malfunction? The rational explanations seemed increasingly inadequate as the watch continued to intrude upon my reality with its cryptic messages.
“You are dreaming.”
“Do not wake up.”
These notifications appeared sporadically, each one sending a jolt of fear through me. They came at odd hours, sometimes in the dead of night, sometimes in the bright light of day, blurring the lines between sleep and wakefulness, between dreams and reality. The messages suggested a consciousness behind the watch, an intent that was unnerving in its persistence.
As these communications grew more frequent, the world around me seemed to respond in kind. My daily experiences began to take on a surreal quality. Conversations with coworkers sounded hollow, their laughter a beat off, their stares lingering a second too long. Walking through familiar streets, I would catch glimpses of oddities in the periphery of my vision—people moving jerkily, like poorly animated characters in a forgotten film, and buildings whose windows seemed to flicker in and out of existence.
The fabric of my reality was fraying, each thread pulled loose by the watch’s insistent vibrations. One particularly disturbing day, I came home to find my apartment door wide open, though I was certain I had locked it. Inside, everything was subtly off—books rearranged on the shelves, photographs facing backward, and a television showing a static-filled screen despite being unplugged.
That night, another message flashed on the watch’s screen just as I was about to attempt sleep:
“Stay in the dream.”
The implication of these words haunted me. They suggested not just surveillance but control, an urging to reject the reality I knew and embrace the chaos the watch seemed to propagate. My sleep became sporadic, filled with nightmares that mirrored the oddities of my waking life. I dreamt of endless corridors lined with clocks showing impossible times, of shadowy figures whispering just beyond hearing, and of waking up within dreams within dreams, each layer revealing more confusion and distortion.
Desperate for answers or perhaps for confirmation that I was not losing my mind, I turned to the internet. I scoured forums for anyone experiencing similar phenomena with their devices, for any hint that this could be a widespread issue. I posted detailed accounts of my experiences, asking for help, for explanations, for any guidance that could be offered.
But as I typed my plea for help, part of me wondered if this, too, was part of the dream—the watch a totem of a deeper, darker puzzle that I was yet to solve. With each passing moment, the boundary between the digital and the real, the imagined and the experienced, became harder to discern. I was left clinging to the hope that an answer would come, that clarity would return, but with each vibrating alert from my watch, that hope dimmed, swallowed by the growing shadows of an unending nightmare.
As the surreal began to permeate every aspect of my reality, the line between wakefulness and dreams blurred unsettlingly. Each day presented new anomalies that disrupted my once predictable routines. The smartwatch, which had initially seemed a beacon of health and order, now felt like a malevolent presence on my wrist. It issued notifications that became increasingly sinister:
“You are sleeping.”
“You are dreaming.”
“Do not wake up.”
These messages, once merely confusing, now carried an ominous weight, intruding upon my daily life with an urgency that sent shivers down my spine. I felt watched, manipulated by the device I had so eagerly strapped onto myself.
In desperation, I turned to the internet for answers, navigating to the r/nosleep community on Reddit. This forum, a place where the lines between horror and reality are blurred, seemed the appropriate venue to share my unnerving experiences and seek guidance.
Typing out my story, I detailed everything from the initial joy of using the smartwatch to the chilling developments that followed. Writing it all down felt cathartic yet terrifying, each word solidifying the nightmare my life had turned into.
A new message from the watch appeared, stark against the pulsing backlight of the screen:
“Can you escape what you do not understand?”
This cryptic question chilled me to the bone. As I am typing this, unsure whether I’m appealing to the reality of others or simply broadcasting into a deeper layer of my own twisted reality, the screen keeps flashing, each pulse echoing the watch’s haunting inquiry.