| Tomas Morato, Quezon City |

I woke up feeling like I was drowning. The place was misty, and with heavy eyes, I found myself kissing the pail lying on the floor, with my face catching the running water from the faucet. I was unsure what I was doing there. I was neither drunk nor having morning sickness, and there was no way I would collapse. But there I was in that cramped part of the bathroom, channeling Nastassja Kinski in her much-celebrated pinup.

I sat down to check my already wet body. There were no bumps or bruises, except for a minor scratch on my left leg. No red splotch on the floor. Nothing fatal. When I thought everything turned out fine, my stomach suddenly churned at an alarming rate, seemingly on the verge of eruption. Before I could react, a magma of something rushed unstoppably out of my mouth. Its sticky, colorful contents, which stained the white tiles I scrubbed laboriously last night, reminded me of the violations I committed against my dietary requirement.

That throwing up helped me regain my depleted energy. I lost some fuel, which paradoxically reignited me. Still trying to figure out what took place, I assuaged my curiosity with the thought that I had fainted for no clear reason. It is what it is. I cleaned up my mess to shoo away the reek that started to fill up the room and cleansed my body which began to smell like a rotten corpse, only stopping when the freshness of Irish Spring dominated the surroundings again.

I went up to get some clothes. I was rummaging through my closet when a spirit of some sort engulfed me, snuffing out the inner flame that supplied me the much-needed power to keep going. I attempted to stop it, but it was just too potent. It showed no mercy. It was not in the mood to give me any chance to preserve my remaining energy. At that time, I did not have the faintest idea of what was taking place; all I knew was that I needed to stand on my ground and subdue my invisible enemy. Soon, I sensed that it was sucking my soul out of my earthly body. I started to see dancing black dots, which caused me to lose my cool because it dawned on me that I was at the farthest part of the house, where windows were closed tightly for safety. If something happened to me, nobody would know. I crawled towards the other room facing the street, hoping that I would be able to grab some attention if push came to shove. Only at that point did I come to terms with the fact that having nosy neighbors has some advantages.

But my muscles were uncooperative. On their own, they decided to be in a state of atrophy. They just stopped functioning. I could not go any farther than the side of my closet, so I just sat there, praying that I would not end up being a useless fertilizer on a marble floor.

It took me some time to become fully aware that I had been sprawling on the floor for quite some time, embracing all the dust that piled up after days of neglect. For some unknown reason, that unsought nap gave me immense satisfaction. The coldness of the floor brought back the flames taken away by the mysterious entity a while back. At that time, I knew I was out of danger, but I was too debilitated to even lift my finger. So I just closed my eyes again and let my consciousness drift into nothingness.

When I felt that I had amassed all the vigor I needed, I hauled my entire heaviness towards the other room. I opened the window wide enough to catch some fresh air. It made me puke. For someone who hates vomiting, I was glad that happened because that meant my strength would be back in no time. I could scream for help should the uninvited, indomitable spirit decide to harass me again.

After wiping the scattered pieces of waste, I went downstairs. I opened all the windows and even the door in case of another wave of unfortunate events. I noticed that my phone was bursting with my friends’ messages, which I received at the exact moment when I was fighting for my consciousness. I recalled my friends got the strongest instincts, so they might have detected something was wrong.  

My friends’ awareness of my situation helped me calm down. At the very least, I knew somebody would check on me. I lay down on the floor and tried to get that overwhelming experience out of my mind. Fainting for the first time, not only once but twice, was too much for a day. Just thinking about it drained me. I was unsure how I managed to survive. I closed my eyes, purposely did the Nastassja Kinski once again, and let the pitch-black take away my consciousness.

Images from:

https://www.galeriejanvrin.com/fr/artists/39-richard-avedon/works/35-richard-avedon-nastassja-kinski-and-serpent-1981/

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/what-causes-spooky-out-of-body-experiences/