The Night of the Semifinals

A completely incomprehensible and utterly terrifying story happened to me just the other day, on the night of July 9-10, 2014. I'm a football fan, so I couldn't miss such a significant event in the life of any fan as the World Cup—I watched almost every game live. Since I live in Siberia, the matches were broadcast from Brazil late at night, so I had to wake up to my alarm, drink coffee, and watch the game in that state.

It was the night of the semifinal match, between Argentina and Holland, to determine who would qualify for the final. As usual, I woke up to my phone alarm, yawned a little, knocked back a couple of cups of strong black coffee, and settled down in front of the TV. At first, I felt quite energetic—it was the semifinal, after all, and the tension was high, especially after a truly epic match between Germany and Brazil the day before. But alas, this match turned out to be quite dull, with the opponents in no hurry to attack and score the coveted goals, and little by little, during the second half, I dozed off. The effects of the two cups of coffee were apparently still lingering, and instead of a full night's sleep, I found myself in a strange daze: I seemed to be aware of everything happening around me, aware that I was lying in my own home, hearing the voice of the football commentator (but understanding nothing), and yet, for the most part, I was actually sleeping, meaning my brain was completely out of action.

So, there I was, sprawled out on the couch in this state, and suddenly I clearly realized that someone was blocking my view of the TV screen. I want to tell him irritably, "Move away, you're blocking my view," but I'm not surprised or afraid of who it could be (I live alone in the apartment). I can't say anything, but the one blocking my view, as if hearing my thoughts, shifts to the side, revealing the glowing rectangle of the screen. But he doesn't stop there—he starts pacing the room, touching the books on the shelves, looking in the mirror, peering behind the closed curtains... Who it is or what he looks like, I can't say: the guest is perceived purely abstractly, on the edge of my consciousness. Let me remind you that I'm still 90 percent asleep, and I don't care about anything. Finally, having searched the entire room, the guest returns to the sofa, leans over me, and seems to ask something. I don't react, my thoughts blissfully empty. He asks again, more impatiently. I remain silent. I feel the guest starting to get irritated, and then he really loses his temper—he snatches a knife from somewhere and starts slashing me across my face, chest, and arms... There's no pain, and by this point I'm starting to realize I'm either dreaming this or experiencing "sleep paralysis," like I've experienced a couple of times before. I try to force myself to wake up. Meanwhile, the guest seems to calm down, apologizes a bit, and walks off toward the hallway.

As soon as he leaves, I come to my senses. My head is pounding, my muscles are stiff, and my throat is dry. Remembering I was watching the match, I sit up and see the semifinal is already ending, the final penalty shootout is underway, and Messi is at the ball. But I can't really get into the game anymore because I notice my clothes are all sticky. I look at myself—oh my God! My T-shirt was covered in blood, my shorts were covered in blood, blood was running down my legs! I rushed to the bathroom like a madman and started stripping off my clothes. I couldn't find any wounds, not even the slightest scratch. And there was so much blood on my clothes, you could wring it out. It was immediately clear to me that it was blood, not some kind of paint, no joke—the color, the smell, and the crusty appearance when it dried...

So, I couldn't sleep that night. I checked all the doors and windows—they were all closed and locked, no one could have gotten in. I washed my clothes in the washing machine and took a long shower. In the following days, I walked around with a certain trepidation—either I was afraid the uninvited guest would show up in my sleep again, or I thought the police would show up and charge me with sleepwalking and stabbing someone... But nothing happened. I sleep well at night, no nightmares or visions. I hope nothing else happens in the future.