The following episode of my life (or episodes, I should say) involved three paranormal or just plain weird events that seemed to be interconnected. One of the events seemed to lead to a sort of epilogue event that happened a year later. As I wrote this story yesterday and today, I became aware that it sounds more crazy than I originally thought.
It started in May of 2010, when I was going through a pretty rough period, unable to get my business going, unable to get a job, completely without income, and facing my first-ever eviction, which was coming up in about ten days. My situation was so bad that the eviction meant I would probably lose everything and become homeless. How I got to that low point in my life is another story…..
I went to bed feeling very depressed and anxious, worried about my impending dead-end life. In the middle of the night I woke up with a jolt and saw movement in the open doorway of my bedroom. I’m not sure if a noise disturbed my sleep, but I was shocked to see the silhouettes of two men standing by the door, dim light filtering in through a window behind them. As soon as I gasped, the man closest to me lunged forward and tried to touch a metallic-looking object to my head. Instinctively I grabbed his wrists and tried to push him back, but he pressed his full weight on me. It was too dark to see his face, but all of my attention was on the object nearing my forehead. I’m not sure, but I think he was able to finally touch me with it. In that moment, both men disappeared, leaving me sitting up in bed, out of breath, sweating, my hands still raised to clutch wrists that were no longer there. I sat there for a long while, looking around me and wondering what the hell had just happened. Had it been a dream, or was it real? (I have a theory about the “reality” of it now; I’ll talk about that later.)
I finally got up enough nerve to slide out of bed and inspect the small, one-bedroom house that I still rent to this day, five years later. The metal bars across my front and back doors were still in place and locked, and there was no evidence of intruders. Everything was still in place. The clock said that it was a little past four in the morning, a fact that would become important later.
It took me a while to fall asleep again, and when I did, I had a vivid dream that I won’t tell in much detail now (since this is mostly a story about the so-called shadow people), although it heralded the second “paranormal” event. In general terms, the dream was about two people–a husband and wife I’d known for a long time but hadn’t seen in about three years–coming to help me. The very next evening, the couple I’d dreamt about actually did come to my house with an offer of help, including a job opportunity and three hundred dollars cash that they happened to have with them for some unknown reason, and which I would now use to pay off part of my back rent. The wife told me no one had told them I was in trouble, but she had just “had a feeling” there was something wrong with me.
I’m getting a little off the track here, but that job opportunity would eventually lead to an even better job situation, one that I’m still involved with today. In other words, I was never evicted and never became homeless….
Anyway, back to the story: There were details in the dream that matched what the couple said and did during their visit. For instance, the husband’s job offer involved me designing a website and helping him set up a booth at the New Mexico State Fair in September of that year. In the dream, I had met the couple while running a booth at a fairground–something I had never done before in real life.
After I thanked them profusely and they left, I rushed over to my landlady’s house, which is right next door to mine, on the same half-acre plot of land. With a big smile, I handed my landlady the three hundred dollars, and announced that I just got a job. I had already lived here for twelve years, and she liked me, so she canceled the eviction notice on the spot and had me sit down at her kitchen table to talk. Just like that, I was saved from disaster. (Of course, I still had back rent to pay!)
As we finished talking, she asked me what I’d been doing outside last night. That brought me up short. I had no idea what she was talking about. I couldn’t remember having been outside at all the previous day.
I told her, “Hm, I don’t think I was outside. What time did you see me?”
When she had said “last night,” I thought she meant 8 or 9 p.m. Instead, she said, “You were outside on your porch at four in the morning, talking to your friend, Rich.”
I immediately thought of the two men in my room. I said, “Rich wasn’t here yesterday, and I wasn’t outside either, especially at that time. Are you sure it was us?”
She told me she had gotten up from bed around four o’clock and heard voices outside. She had looked out of the large picture window facing my house and saw the two silhouettes of men standing on my front porch. She had assumed it was me and Rich, even though she couldn’t see them clearly, and she called my name through the window, asking if everything was okay. She said the men just stood there, still and quiet. She felt weird about it and decided to go back to bed.
By now my mind was all over the place, trying to piece everything together: the men on my porch, the men in my room, the prophetic dream. Even if the men hadn’t been the same as the ones in my room, what the hell were two strangers doing on my front porch at four in the morning?
As it turned out, nothing else related to this happened until a little more than a year later. In the late spring or early summer of 2011, when I was working on my computer late one night, I suddenly remembered the shadow people incident. It just seemed to pop into my head from out of nowhere, and I felt myself getting creeped out by the memory–especially the fact that my landlady had seen two “shadow men” on my porch. I continued working, but my unease grew. I started to feel certain that something else was going to happen later tonight–maybe another visit from the men–which made it very hard to drag myself to bed.
When I finally did make it to bed, it took me a while to fall asleep. At 1:30 a.m., a loud noise startled me awake. Disoriented, I listened to the sound of a large, metallic-sounding object–like a steel pipe–being dragged across the stucco wall outside, right behind my bed. It started on my left, beyond my bedroom wall, and scraped along, passing behind me, until it stopped when it reached the wall to my right. Between the wall behind me and the neighbor’s fence is a corridor that’s about four feet wide and covered with dirt and a few weeds. I listened for footsteps in that corridor, but heard nothing. The scraping had stopped. A minute or so passed before I was greeted with a new and more disturbing sound, this one coming from under my nightstand: the crackling of paper, like a bag being crumpled. It was pretty loud, and I lay still, listening and trying to figure out what could be causing it. I had had mice in this house once before; the noise reminded me of that.
I finally decided to roll over slowly, grab my alarm clock, whose face was illuminated a dull orange, and shine it under the nightstand. I stared in disbelief: there was nothing there at all–no mouse and no bag–and yet the sound was definitely emanating from that space, unaffected by the light. That did it: I shot out of bed and switched on the light, looked in the closet beyond the nightstand, searched the bathroom, kitchen, living room. Nothing. By now the sound had stopped, and neither sound returned as I tried to fall asleep again. One of my last thoughts before I succeeded in passing out was the memory of something I had read in Communion, one of Whitley Strieber’s books about his UFO abduction experiences. This whole nighttime noise thing reminded me of a time when Whitley was alone in one of his homes (I think it was in upstate New York). Even though he had lots of security surrounding the home, someone or something had managed to come right up to his house and pound on the walls nine times, in three groups of three, without setting off any alarms. Little did I know that that thought about Whitley Strieber would lead to–or seem to lead to–a final event in this strange tale.
The next day, as the sun was starting to set, my cell phone rang, and I found myself talking to my landlady, who was home at the time. She’s in her eighties and has trouble walking, so she usually contacts me by phone instead of crossing over to my house to knock on the door. I can’t remember what we talked about, but I do remember sitting in a chair a few feet away from the front door. I rarely get unannounced visitors, since I live in a semi-rural neighborhood without a lot of pedestrian traffic, so I was startled when someone knocked loudly, three times, on the door before me. I told my landlady I had a visitor, and I’d call her back after I saw who it was–but when I opened the door and stared through metal bars of the security gate, there was no one there. I didn’t hear footsteps running away, but it seemed obvious that it had been a kid playing a prank. I opened the gate and looked around the side of the house and down the street. No kids. The daylight was dimming, but I could still see pretty well in all directions.
I went back in the house and dialed my landlady. It took her a while to answer, and when she did, she was out of breath. She told me that right after I hung up, someone pounded on her door three times. She also found no one there when she answered it. She said the pounding on my door had been so loud that she could hear it inside her house, but she didn’t see anyone on my porch when she looked out her window.
We continued our conversation, while I remained standing, periodically drawing back the curtain on my front door window to see if I could catch a glimpse of whoever was pranking us. I just finished doing that one last time, standing only a foot away from the unlocked door, when the door shook with three more loud knocks that scared the hell out of me and made me jump back. I reacted quickly, pulling the door open to see–nothing. No one at all. No footsteps crunching away on the gravel driveway before me. I pushed through the iron gate and, cell phone in hand, ran around the side of the house to peer at the corridor behind my bedroom, where I saw nothing but dirt and a few weeds. I then hurried back the other way, rounding the corner of my landlady’s house. Still nothing. There really was nowhere for anyone to hide. So where were they?
By the time I came back to my front door, my landlady had hobbled outside to meet me. I was fairly disturbed by now, having realized that the visitor had knocked on our doors in three groups of three, just like Strieber’s visitor. That coincidence and the fact that the prankster appeared to be invisible really had me wondering if there was a connection–maybe even a connection to the shadow men, since that memory, last night, seemed to trigger all of these events. Despite how nervous I was, my landlady just shrugged it off as kids playing a prank.
Three years have passed without any more shadowy visitations, although I’ve had quite a few other strange experiences that I’ve talked about in various online posts. All of them have served to shift my world view, my view of reality. I now have the feeling that we live simultaneously in multiple realities, dimensions or universes; some of which “bleed through” into this earthly one from time to time. As far as whether or not the shadow men were real or characters in a dream, I tend to think that it was a little of both. I’m starting to believe that we sometimes enter into alternate states that are neither dreaming nor waking, but somewhere in between. The men were real, sentient entities, I think, existing in a sort of nether world that I somehow entered into. When the men disappeared, it wasn’t because they vanished, but because I had shifted out of their reality, into my own. Something like that, anyway…
Submitted by K.V.