It was my first time sleeping over my friends house. Let’s call her Lisa. Lisa lived in a two story home in a middle-class suburb. A staycation for me- I had parents who were just barely getting by, but they gave us a good life in a tiny 2 bedroom ranch in “Osceola” as my mom would call it. She says that’s Italian slang for “middle of nowhere”, but I never fact checked her on it.
Lisa greeted me excitedly at the door, noticing my dads van in the driveway struggling to start. He waved goodbye to me with a half smile, glancing back and forth between me and the steering wheel. A couple “god damn it’s” later, the van started and began its backwards trek down the driveway. Thank god.
Walking into the home, I noticed her brother and dad sitting on the couch watching American Pickers. Her brother looked familiar, and I realized he was in the same grade as my older brother. I had seen him at school events over the years.
Lisa and I spent the evening dancing in her bedroom to Justin Bieber songs with big plans to see his 3D movie with her mom and sister the next morning. A matinee was a weird choice for a couple of preteens, but we didn’t care much. I still remember how weird and empty the mall was. I didn’t get popcorn because it felt wrong. That mall was recently purchased by a car dealership.
I slept in her sisters bed, who was staying at a friends house for the night but meeting us at the mall in the morning. There were two twin sized beds parallel to each other in Lisa’s purple painted bedroom. My bed was against a wall, shared with a window.
I fell asleep after staring at the ceiling and laughing with Lisa until 11 pm. I slept well at first. I dreamt about what it might be like to meet Justin Bieber in person. What would I say? Would he like me? He had been popping up at different movie theaters across the country here and there for screenings. Would he be at my 11:00 am showing of Never Say Never at our one-story mall in Central New York? Surely not. And he wasn’t. But the mystery of it was thrilling.
Suddenly I was awoken from my Bieber Fever dreams, and I opened my eyes to the pitch black. After I remembered where I was, I felt something strange on my back, as if someone was brushing my hair ever so lightly with a wide tooth comb. Just barely touching me. I flipped around to see a shadowy figure urgently exiting the bedroom, closing the door behind them. I sat up and stared into the darkness for a moment. Who was that and what were they doing in here? Maybe it was Lisa’s brother or father. They were probably looking for something and bumped into me. Maybe it was a weird dream. Regardless, I turned back over to face the wall and fell back asleep.
It happened again. I’ll never forget the feeling it gave me. The wave of nausea it sent through my body as whatever it was hovered above me. This time, I cleared my throat to let whoever it was know I was awake. I heard footsteps scurry across the bedroom to the door.
Looking back on it now, I should have gotten the hell out of there. I started to spiral into an anxiety attack. I took some deep breaths, and tossed and turned for about an hour. Finally, the moonlight cracked through a cloud in the night sky, which cracked through a blind, which made room for some light in the bedroom. I could finally see the outlines of the furniture. The dresser, her bean bag chair stacked with clean laundry. My newly rediscovered depth perception soothed me enough to fall back asleep.
It happened for the third time. I was scared, but also really frustrated. I spent so much time unwinding and telling myself I was being silly about this whole situation, only to be awake again ten minutes later. Something was wrong. The tingling, gentle touching sensation went from my scalp to the middle of my spine. For the second time, I flipped back over to see a shadow scurrying out of the bedroom, closing the door behind them.
At this point I opened my flip phone and texted my older sister. She didn’t answer. It was very late. I thought about calling my mom, but it was the weekend. She needed her sleep. She was always so, so stressed.
The fourth and last time it happened I was awake. Instead of attempting to fall back asleep, I chose to hide under the comforter, shining the light of my Nokia cell phone in my face. When it went dim, I’d click the middle button to light it up again. Suddenly, the feeling was back. I was becoming enraged. I threw the blankets off of me and said “Hey!” But I was too late. The figure made its way to the door. I sprung out of bed and went over to Lisa’s.
“Lisa?” I said, my voice trembling. “What?” She responded, half awake. “I think your brother keeps coming into our room” Lisa looked at me, annoyed. “That’s ridiculous” She flipped away from me and pulled the covers up to her chin.
I stared at her for a moment, completely defeated. The wood squeaked under my feet as I made my way back to that awful twin bed.
No one came back into the room that night. I squeezed about 45 minutes of sleep in once the sun came up. Before I knew it I was staring into space at the family’s breakfast table. Across from me sat Lisa’s mother, father, and brother. Lisa sat beside me. Her back arched, her blonde hair neatly arranged into a French braid.
Did everyone else have a normal evening? What was tormenting me all night long? Was it even a person? I’m 26 now, and I still can’t stop thinking about it.