sleep/sceptics

I'll begin this with a question. Straightforward. I'm really bad at introductions.

Uhmm.

Have you ever had any encounters with the supernaturals?

I mean, having your life destined to cross path with something that could be deemed as out of the ordinary, and with the inclination to the other world. The usually unseen. The hidden reality. Those horror movies materials. I'm trying my best not to laugh for using italics for other world. My cheap effort on making things looks spooky. Other world.

Anyway, I'm here to tell mine. To begin with, let’s discuss on a bit technical side of this topic. Usually when it comes to discussing this kind of topic, we'll get ourselves divided into two sides; one is the sceptic kind, the denier, the logical bastards, and far on the other spectrum is the "I want to believe" troops. Which one are you? I am a proud sceptic. Up to the moment I'm typing this, I still am. Tell me stories on hauntings, inherited beings, witchcraft and sorts, you'll get that big-eyed look in my face where I would listen to every details of the stories, just because I loved it. 

I'm a sceptic who enjoyed this kind of stuff, because it’s fun. It is interesting to find out that people are very interested at things that hypothetically could harm you, and it’s interesting to realise that I do too. I love the process of listening to those stories, and having my mind working out so hard to debunk the stories, coming up with theories and conjectures, crossing out all possible explanations. And I could say that I'm not scared of the idea of ghosts, hauntings, and such. I'm more interested in finding more logical explanation about them, because for me, we are always scared of things that we don't know, things that we don't understand. Things which we're not clear about triggers our defense mechanism to label it as a threat. Darkness, Illuminati, aliens, ghosts.

And this "paranormal" stuff, sometimes could be explained with our own efforts. Internet says, the best way to keep yourself from going crazy in a supposedly haunted properties, is to get yourself a cat. That way, all those weird scratching noises at night on your bedroom door could be blamed on Mr. Boots. But then, there is also a story of a guy who had his pet cat dead by a speeding car, only to be awakened at the following nights by constant scratching sound. Mr. Boots now seems unhappy for his fate. Now the guy must find something else to blame.

I had my stories too. With my strong logic, it was easily debunked. Stories which don’t involve sightings are easy, frail to modern minds. None really disturb me for days. I had numbers actually, most of it involves what we would call, "unexplained noises," or "sounds". I'm sure there are a lot of cases out there, where families move out of their house due to this phenomenon. This could be easily explained, and with a sound mind, you don't have to spend on moving every year. This could be blamed on electrical appliances, winds, air pressure, structural integrity of the buildings, and also spirits. They do enjoy us listening to them having fun with their kind. I bet they do enjoy the sight of us fleeing from our newly bought two storeys. Fuck them.

Mine was simple, never too scary, leaves me baffled for days but not traumatised. I live in a student’s residence in IIUM, which are blocks of apartment-like buildings, with massive bathroom shared with the whole floor. A room is made for four students, with separate compartments worth 50 percent of privacy. One of my stories, involve me making a routine visit to a room where my friends/gangster squad reside. It was on the second floor, right in front of the stairs. As I made it to the door, I continued to knock few times, at the same time calling for anyone inside. With hands in my pockets, I waited after I heard someone saying "kejap!", which means "wait". I waited for what that expected twist of locks and doorknob.

I got none. No one greets me. No one opens the door for me. I waited and waited, and then I called them to make sure of their whereabouts, in the end I came to the fact that there was definitely no one in the room, nothing which is capable for uttering those words that tell me to wait from its non-existent throat, yet I heard it. I can't digest the fact that I heard a voice from an empty room, and then waited for the door to unlocked. All my senses and my body was already prepared to enter the space. It might be my ears trying to trick me. Hey, it could be anything. It could be someone's talking too loud from the next room. See, my logic is unbeatable. The possibilities are infinite. I just can't blame it on an invisible spectre who just decided to test my logic by imitating my friend's voice?

The next story is kind of similar- it also involves sound as the medium, but it happens in a room. In my room to be exact. As I said before, my room consists of four compartments, but for a long period of time, there were only two of us in the room. To have a weird stranger as your room mate is another type of horror, I'm glad I don't have to live through that. Let us call this friend of mine Gandhi, easy and memorable. They do look alike at some cruel angles.

Gandhi was a great friend and roommate, tried his best not to breach my 50 percent privacy, and having two empty compartment is a bliss. I kind of converted that unused space, as my private drying room for my laundry days, but it comes with a price. I never have anyone to be blamed for noises that I heard from that side of my room. The room is kind of divided into two sides at night, the living on our side, and the unknown at the laundry side. It is considered normal for me, to hear noises from the other side, and my logic keeps me on my sceptic path. The wind. That's the wind too. Yeah, totally the wind. 

Lots of things could be caused by the wind. The normal one is the sound of chairs moving, yes they do have chairs for the wind to play with. Other unidentifiable sounds mostly sounds metallic, other than that none really bothers me. Except for one occasion, where when I was in my bed, I definitely heard it, the sound of Gandhi entering the room. The combination of the door, footsteps, fabric rubbing, keys tumbling, chairs moving. A lot of frictions created on Gandhi's compartment, thus creating sound waves travelling to my eardrums, signalling human presence. I kind of waited for him to come back, to talk to him about something, so I lead myself to his compartment. I then lead myself into his surprisingly empty compartment. No Gandhi here, should I go back to my bed? This time the wind really fucks with me. I had my logic working so hard that night. Never is it a fun experience. I had nothing to be blamed on that but my mental disorder. 

Those are my stories, and oh I'm sorry. Those are part of my halfway-encounter stories. Does it weird you out to hear this from a self proclaimed sceptic? Until now, how much of my stories do anything to your stand? I'm really interested in that, sometimes I always see my potential as social scientist, but I keep reminding myself on the pay. I also see my potential as ghost-hunter. I feel that there's a lot of things that we could learn, in order for us to have the explanations on a lot of great mysteries in our plane of existence. Ghost hunters exist for this sole purpose, and money, and fame. For those of you who never have any concern on this other world issue, I totally get you. You don't need any explanation if you don't have a question. I do have a question. I'll begin my story.

I always have problems with sleeping. In my early years of my studies my sleep cycle is so messed up, I would lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling for hours until dawn. And I get so tired during the day. I would get up and smoke and try again for the next drift, but I just can't get to sleep. This happens for months but now I'm totally fine. In my second year I discovered narcolepsy first-hand. It’s a vivid experience, and tiring. Imagine yourself having to fight the urge to sleep every single seconds of your existence, and teachers are never a help obviously. The experience of battling it was surreal, I'll tell you why. Every time I fall asleep, I would be dreaming. Even for a minute worth of sleep. Theoretically I'm deprived of REM sleep, I understood it as I don't dream enough. The problem is, I have tried once to write down all my dreams every time I fall asleep in one particular class, and I got more than 40 dreams. 40 times falling asleep. 40 different dreams in 80 minutes of class. A dream every two minutes. I thought I was going crazy. My boundaries between real world and dreamscape was crushed. Imagine having the African guy sitting beside you to suddenly taking away your books and ripping it apart, and then the walls come down and it was all just a dream. Your face are just inches away from the table. African guy is sleeping too. This happen for months, but now I'm totally fine.

The never ending problem I have with sleeping, is that I always find myself awakened suddenly at night. It’s not that I have nightmares, apneas, or rashes for god sake. It's just my sleep mechanism suddenly decided to shut down its process and suddenly, I'm wide awake. Not really a big problem as I always have no problems falling back asleep, but this one time I had to sew my eyes shut in while my heartbeat is waking me up with very pump. My consciousness get stronger at unnecessary timing. My path of life collides with the supernaturals. I hate to admit that at one part of my life it did, and I can't find an answer to explain it. It's evading my logic completely.

It was a night which is one of the normal nights, no such things as premonitions. I tuck myself in my blankets after a day spent with my girlfriend, in my room like my normal days. Gandhi is present, and he was there all the time it occurs. I rarely keep my lights on even before I go to sleep, and I always rely on lights that spill from Gandhi's compartment so my territory will always be in a comfy, dim environment. Usually he never switch off his lights until morning, and it’s the same that day. I never shut down my windows, except for when it’s raining. I love the night breeze to brush all over me when I'm asleep, its heavenly and it works better than scented candles all the time. Great room. Blissful sleep.

Are you a fan of horror movies? I am. I fucking love horror movies. The problem is, the older you get, the less scary it will be. Cinemas help me a lot to get my adrenaline dosage, as it never scary to watch it on the laptop. What scares you? Clowns? Scare jumps? Sound effects? Visual effects works on screen, but the effect is minimised in a great value as you know that it’s on the screen. It will never get out of that two-dimensional plane and eat you, doesn't matter how scary it looks. You might get scared "watching" it, but you will never be affected with on-screen ghost "presence". Decapitated bodies, ugly faces, empty eye sockets. Give you anything, the terror would never reach you at the level of you having your life squeezed out of your guts, because your brain could assure you that it is not really there. Have you ever got ghost-pranked? You would easily get heart attack with a friend in a white cloth from head to toe, or a stupid mask, or they could just jump in front of you and shriek like a squished banshee, it could affect you million times more than scary movies. Why? Because you know, it’s not in the screen any more. The threat is real, it is in front of you. Imagine having that stupid boy in Ju-On sitting beside your bed, it sure look so silly on screen, but imagine having a boy of unknown origins, just poof out nowhere in your safe space, with his disturbing vibe and pale skin. On the screen its 1/10. In your room, in the air you breath, the scale could go to hell.

I woke up that night, to the sound of nothing. Literally nothing. No wind, no branches brushing no bat wings flapping, nothing. Just me and Gandhi and the two rotating ceiling fans. Take note that I'm really near-sighted, I've been wearing glasses since I was born and its 400++ nowadays. I opened my eyes to half darkness and half-blinded. Gandhi's compartment was still generously sharing its light with mine. I wasn't too eager to fall back asleep, my consciousness was not fully there, my feet was halfway outside the blanket. The usual night. The air was great for me to fall asleep again.

I was shifting to my right side, facing the study tables, when my eyes made up a shape somewhere on it. It was half-lit by the light, but my brain processed it as somewhere black in colour. My bag. My bag for classes. Eh no, it’s not. No it’s not my fucking bag. It’s not my bag when it is taking a shape of a person tucking his knee on his chin, on my study table. It really isn't. It was a person and if it is not, it does look like one. I can’t blame the wind, because I could see it. No way that fucking thing is a cat. It sits there silently, waiting, and I am screaming inside, as my body translate it into shivers. All I think of is not to make it realise, that I know it was there. I'm not alone in this space, and the other party is something that could harm me in unknown ways. I can feel him in my blanket, while my sight tells me he is not yet inside. His face buried in his knees, but unlike the Ju-On kid, this one is a full grown adult, and is not pale. The whole body is black in color. I fucking wish he doesn't lift his head up, and see my face full of tears and know that I'm not asleep. I'm too scared to look at him, but at the same time I'm too scared to close my eyes as I don't want to be conflicted on opening my eyes again. I don't want to open my eyes with his face inches from mine. How long has he been there? Is he saying something? How can I hide my shaking feet back inside my blanket? How can I reach my phone without letting him see my hands moving? Which holy verse to read? How can I hide the sound of my piss he would hear it for sure-  

I woke up without remembering anything.  But my drenched mattress betrays me for real. I lie in my piss for a good 10 minutes more, it doesn't change anything now. I think I got scared in a ridiculous amount last night my body just shut down itself after emptying the bladder. If it was a bear, I wouldn't feel anything as it chew on me. I tried to remember if I had any dreams, no I did not. I wish that was a dream. I took deep breaths, thanking that I’m still here. Gandhi doesn't ask me why I woke up so early, as he laughs at the sight of me drying my mattress on the window under the morning sun. Not so ashamed of it as my mind is still terrorised by you-know-who.

"I piss in my dream, I realize the sink was oddly shaped, but I keep on spraying until I realise it was navel-deep, woke up to this shit"

I told everyone my "dream", it makes me feel a lot better, it makes me feel secured. Denying is good, thinking about it is not, and it happen just that one time, so why bothers? It could be all in my head. Who could tell me it isn't? No one. Gandhi bought my stories, so I'm sure he saw nothing that night. It could also be a dream, a half-dream, a lucid dream, anything as I know how I'm prone to those possibilities. All I know is that the fear, is real, it shakes me to my core that I'm as good as dead. What could be unreal, is what I am scared of. See, being rational really helps. I stayed in that room for the rest of the semester with no follow up visits. My room was still dim, and my windows are still welcoming the night air. I'm still a sceptic, I still am. But fuck it, I would never welcome that thing on my study table again. I flooded my tables with my books and dirty clothes, so that it won't have any place to sit. I am really a practical sceptic.