by Voicu Mihnea Simandan
“The books in a person’s house reveal an enormous
amount of what’s going on in his head.”
(Paul Theroux, My Other Life)
It was the room where I used to spend all my free time during my early days in Bangkok. When I didn’t have to run any house chores I would retreat to the silence of my room and pick up a book from the shelves of my fairly big library. At night I preferred to sneak out of my window when nobody else could see me, rather than go out and play in the afternoon and be bullied by my neighbours.
But that night was different. Everything seemed to be continuously moving. Although it was a windless night, the branches of my favorite mango tree were rustling by my window. The moon also seemed to change its location on the clear sky, hurling its light onto the walls of my room. But the strangest thing of all was my room, which also seemed to be moving. I rubbed my eyes in the hope of opening them to my usual static room, but the effect was contrary. As I lifted my eyelids, my senses told me that the room was seemingly smaller. The ceiling was descending as if I were under an elevator, while the bookshelves were also closing in. And, above all, there was an awful screeching sound that seemed to come from all the corners of the room.
I didn’t panic. I reached with my left hand for the house slippers from under my bed. As I was doing so I found the book I was reading just before I went to sleep. I took it from under the bed. The title read Introduction to Surrealism. After I had placed the book on the night table I got up, put my slippers on, and looked around to make sure I was not in a dream. I wasn’t. But, the room didn’t stop shrinking. On the contrary, it was getting smaller and smaller.
It was then when I realized that the only wall that wasn’t moving was the window wall. With just one step I was in front of the window, pulling away the white transparent curtains. I could feel behind me that the walls were coming down on me. As I was opening the window I saw, just for a few seconds, before it vanished behind a tree, the shadow of a man. I looked back into my room and noticed that, by now, the distance between myself and the wall was less than a meter long, while the ceiling was almost reaching the top window frame.
My only way to escape was to jump out of the window into the garden. I started climbing out of the window when suddenly I saw the shadow again. This time it was closer, but it disappeared as fast as it had done so the first time. There wasn’t any time left for me to think and analyze the situation. I felt something touching my pyjamas from the back. I knew what it was, so I jumped. I had done it so many times in my night time escapes that as soon as my feet touched the grassy ground I rolled over to absorb the shock, and then I was back on my feet.
The first thing I did when in the garden was to look back up at my window. It was still there. Even stranger was the fact that I could see the interior of the room lighten up in the moonlight. Then the screeching sound I heard while lying on my bed metamorphosed in a wild moan. I could even hear the jerky breathing of something not too far away from me. I faced the garden and saw the shadow figure again. It didn’t fade away as fast as it had previously, but moved slowly backwards until I couldn’t see it anymore. I thought of trying to go back into the house, but I somehow knew that the shadow was responsible for the sudden transformations that had occurred in my room.
I walked towards the place where I had last seen the shadow. After only a couple of meters I saw it again. This time, it was even closer. It seemed that it wanted me to follow it. But as soon as it was within the reach of my hands, it disappeared into the back of the garden. Thus, we played hide-and-seek for a long time. I couldn’t remember what time it was when I left my room, but it didn’t matter. I was so close to catching the shadow that I no longer cared how difficult it would be for me to wake up the next morning and go to school.
Then, all of a sudden, the wind started blowing and clouds hid the moon behind thick masses of grey. I desperately looked around for the shadow, but I couldn’t see it. I ran wildly here and there. But, deprived of moonlight, it was getting more and more difficult for me to avoid all the mango trees in the garden. It was too dark. I looked back at the house and saw that the light in my room was on. There was someone standing in the window. It was my mother. I could hear her voice calling my name.
As I was watching her I saw the shadow approaching the window. I panicked. The following second I was running towards my mother’s voice. But it seemed so distant. I ran faster and faster but I still couldn’t get to the window. Exhausted, I fell on the ground. The shadow was near my window. That window led to my room, my mum, my books, my world. I had to stop it, but I was not able to. I felt so weak and tired. The shadow started climbing into my room. It was very strange to see it, because it had taken the shape of a boy. The boy was wearing blue pyjamas and had slippers on his feet.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. With a tremendous effort I got up. With all my might I started running towards the window light but I couldn’t get any closer. I screamed. I called my mother. I shouted at the shadow. Strangely enough I called it by my own name. But the words were only in my head, because what I was actually uttering were half-human moans. They were just noises that faded into the fussing of the branches in the wind. As I watched the boy close the window to my room with my mother behind him, I realized that my hands were all dirty and black as coal. I tried to get rid of the dirt by rubbing them on my pyjamas but the dirt wouldn’t go. Then I had a better look at myself.
The wind stopped blowing. The clouds faded away. The moon was free again. The garden with its mango trees returned to its usual stillness. Everything calmed down. My mother turned off the lights in my room as I watched the boy climb into my bed. The door closed. There, in the garden, I realized that the shadow had become me and I became the shadow.
(June 2004)
Originally published in OBE: Out of Body Experiences,
edited by Chris Bartholomew, Static Movement, 2011, p. 133-136
