Every night I felt like there was someone in my house, so I installed a camera in my room. In the morning, after reviewing the recordings, I was horrified.

Every night I felt like someone was in my house, so I installed a camera in my room. When I watched the footage this morning, I was horrified 😱😲

Every night I felt the same thing—someone was in my house.

Every night I felt like someone was in my house, so I installed a camera in my room. When I watched the footage this morning, I was horrified.

This sensation didn’t appear right away. First, there were sounds: soft, almost imperceptible. The creaking of the floor, as if someone was carefully taking a step. A dull thud—as if furniture had been brushed against. Sometimes a barely audible rustle, as if someone were opening a closet or rummaging through things. I lay in the darkness, frozen, afraid to even breathe.

It seemed to me that someone unfamiliar was walking around the apartment. Not abruptly, not brazenly—on the contrary, too carefully. As if this “someone” knew my house and didn’t want to be noticed. I most often heard footsteps at night, between two and four in the morning, when my whole body felt heavy and my mind was swimming.

Strange things awaited me in the morning. Things were not where I’d left them: my phone was on the bed, although it had been on the table the night before; clothes were thrown on a chair; there were objects on the floor that definitely weren’t there. Sometimes the room was truly disorganized, as if someone had been rummaging through the closets. I attributed it to fatigue, to forgetfulness, convincing myself that I simply couldn’t remember where I’d put everything.

A couple of times during the night, I even woke up with the feeling that someone was watching me. But I didn’t open my eyes—I told myself it was a dream, a figment of my imagination. Until the fear became too real.

Every night I felt like someone was in my house, so I set up a camera in my room. When I watched the footage in the morning, I was horrified.

One morning, I woke up shaking and realized: I can’t go on like this. I set up the camera in my room. Pointed it at my bed and left it on all night. I was sure that if there really was someone else in the house, the camera would show it.

In the morning, I sat down to watch the footage again. And I was horrified by what I saw on the screen. 😲😱 I expected anything but this. Continued in the first comment 👇👇

At first, nothing. I was sleeping, lying motionless. But then… I saw myself slowly sitting up in the middle of the night. Sitting on the edge of the bed. Standing.

The camera recorded every movement—calm, measured. I walked around the room, opened the closet, took things out, and threw them on the bed and the floor.

Every night I felt like someone was in my house, so I installed a camera in my room—when I reviewed the footage in the morning, I was horrified.

I’d pick up my phone, look at it, and put it somewhere else. I’d accidentally knock a chair over, causing it to fall. Then I’d go back to bed and lie down again, as if nothing had happened.

I stared at the screen and couldn’t breathe. There was no one in the house. Except me.

I didn’t remember any of this. No footsteps, no movements, no disorder. All those nights, all the fear, all the sounds—it was me. My sleepwalking. My second, nocturnal self, which I didn’t know about.

And the scariest thing wasn’t that someone was walking around my house. The scariest thing was that this “someone” had been me all this time, and now I faced a long period of treatment.