In the late nineties, I enjoyed going out with friends. I was young and loved spending my Friday nights at the local dance club. I shared an apartment with my older sibling, Maria, in a quiet neighborhood near the city park.
I often returned home very tired and went straight to bed. It was during these nights that I began to sense a strange presence. My young nephew, who was six, later told me he would hear me having conversations in my room. He thought I was watching television and never mentioned it.
The strange part is that I remember these talks too. I often blamed my tired mind, thinking it was the haze between being awake and asleep. But it felt more real than a dream. I heard another voice clearly, and I could hear my own replies.
Sometimes, I found myself unable to move, my eyes open but my body still as stone.