Shadows by My Bed | True Horror Stories

True Horror Story: Nightmares ongoing since childhood turning into terrifying possession. The true story of shadow entities, scary sounds, an old curse, and peace found through prayers.

I am a 30-year-old married woman with two children. As long as I can remember, I’ve always had terrible nightmares. But mostly, in scary places like forests or cemeteries, figures whose faces I couldn’t see, or rather saw as shadows, would chase and try to catch me. Somehow, even in the dream, I always managed to escape them.

Two years ago, another dream turned my life upside down; the place where I got stuck between reality and dream… That night, I was lying in bed turned to my right side. The door was on the left, meaning behind me. My shoulder felt like it was burning; I didn’t pay much attention, honestly, thinking maybe my child had pushed against me. I don’t remember if I fell back asleep or not after that. A hand with nails almost 15-20 centimeters long grabbed me from my shoulder, pulled me towards itself, and held me tightly from behind. With its nails dug into my shoulder, it was trying to pull me out the door. I was struggling to breathe. The only things I remember are that pitch-black, terrifying hand with long nails, and the only word I could utter was the name of Allah.

I woke up, or rather, I thought I woke up. My son came and asked, “What happened, Mom?” When I turned to him, his face looked strange, and he was showing me his palm; there were Arabic letters in a triangle written in blood. With his other hand, he took my hand and opened my palm; I had the same shapes on my hand too! When I woke up, he was still standing there. It was like dreaming within a dream. I was so scared that I immediately woke my husband. I pointed to our son standing at the head of our bed, showing me his palm. My husband looked at my face blankly and asked, “What is it this time?” Pointing with my index finger, I asked, “Don’t you really see him?” When I told my husband, he made fun of me.

When daylight came, I didn’t dwell on it much, telling myself, “I just had a bad dream.” How could I have known this was just the beginning? My husband is a long-haul truck driver. After he left, while I was busy with housework, evening came, and my anxieties started. Going from the room to the kitchen, I felt like a breath, a shadow on the back of my neck… Because I was scared, I took my son to sleep with me at night.

I couldn’t distinguish reality from imagination anymore. Was it a dream, or was it really happening? I don’t know. Again, a voice in my ear repeated my name over and over. I froze, my tongue was tied, I couldn’t move. I came to my senses by reciting “La ilahe illallah” (There is no god but Allah) in my mind. There were three shadows in the room! One at my head, one at my feet, and another sitting right on my chest!

After that, every day started passing like this. Those three shadow entities were with me every night. When I told my husband what was happening, he would only say, “Your psychology is disturbed.” This made me feel worse; I felt like I was going crazy. My husband came home every three days, and his arrival meant I felt a little safer, even if just for a bit.

One night when my husband was home, I fell asleep before him. He was watching TV in the living room. I don’t know how long I slept. I heard the sound of the wind along with my son’s voice in my ear. The voice was coming from the window: “Come on, Mom! Mom, come on, get out!” You wouldn’t believe how I jumped out of bed and ran to the door. I was jolted by a slap across my face. My husband was very angry, shouting, “Where are you going?” “My son is calling me,” I said. He pointed to the sleeping child and said, “Get a grip, the child has been sleeping for two hours.” Crying, I opened the window; there was no wind, no other sound. Later, my husband came to me and angrily said, “Come on, sleep, I’m here with you.” I was afraid to sleep, but my eyes succumbed to sleepiness. The moment I let go and closed my eyes, what I feared happened. The same shadows, the same voices… You can’t say a word! I was going mad! I covered my ears and buried my head in the pillow. My husband, however, was sleeping soundly. I envied him so much at that moment. All I could do was say, “I hope you experience the same thing I’m experiencing!” Because he didn’t understand me at all.

A day or two later, my sibling called around noon. “Every time I call, you’re sleeping, sis. What’s wrong with you?” they asked. At first, I didn’t want to tell them. I had confined myself to the house, didn’t want to see or hear anyone. Life felt meaningless, like I had fallen into a bottomless pit and was adrift. But I needed to tell someone. When I told my sibling, their words, “Sis, go see a hoca (religious healer), what you’re experiencing isn’t normal,” gave me hope.

Initially, I called a hoca I found on the internet; he was famous, I don’t want to mention his name. He asked for my date of birth and my mother’s name, which I gave. All he said was, “You’ve gotten involved with the three-lettered ones (jinn).” For some reason, I didn’t want to believe it. I called my sibling again. They went to a hoca in their city for me. Whatever the hoca said, they wouldn’t tell me. They put me on the phone with the hoca. The hoca said, “I will read prayers for you over the phone. Repeat what I say. Sit somewhere sturdy.” Holding a glass of water, I started listening and repeating what the hoca said. At that moment, I started trembling as if I had been hit by a high electric current. The hoca on the phone went silent, “We can’t put you in danger, let’s try again tomorrow,” he said.

I started waiting for the next day. In the early hours of the morning, my sibling called. Whatever they had experienced, they were so scared! “Are you okay?” I asked. “Sis, how did you endure this for so long?” they cried. They (the entities) had gone to them at night too, and my sibling had told them, “Stop bothering my sister!” I felt terrible that they went through this because of me. “Go to the hoca, have him read prayers for both you and me,” I said. The hoca didn’t even answer the phone calls. When my sibling went to see him, he said, “I won’t read prayers; they didn’t let me sleep all night.” My hope was dwindling.

But through my sibling, my mother also found out about this matter. She did some research and found a woman the neighbors went to. One day, we went to the woman they mentioned. I sat down; the woman seemed to enter a trance-like state, mumbled some things, and then described everything I had been experiencing, one by one. I was under the effect of a spell; a curse from my childhood that could even affect my child! We were stunned. “Who would do such a thing, and why?” we asked each other. When my mother asked, “Can you break it?” she demanded 600 lira. “Come on, Mom, let’s go,” I said, getting up, refusing to accept.

That day, my husband came to my parents’ place. My mother told him what happened. My husband again said, “You’re talking nonsense,” and made fun of it. We came home. “You sleep, I’m afraid to sleep,” I said. He started getting angry at me, saying things like, “Go see a doctor, you’re going crazy!” I was furious. “You experience it too!” I said and went to bed.

When I woke up in the morning, my husband was pacing back and forth in the bedroom. He had a terrified look on his face. Seeing me awake, he said, “Get up immediately! Find a hoca, find something else, I don’t care! Get this sorted out!” When I asked what happened, he wouldn’t tell me. Around noon, the landlord came over with my husband. When I went to the kitchen to make tea and prepare something, my husband had told them. They recommended someone; he was a retired imam who had also dealt with these matters in the past. As soon as I heard this, I felt a sense of relief.

In the evening, my son, my husband, and I went to seek help. This hoca read prayers and helped without any money involved, only seeking blessings. As soon as I entered his house, I felt a burning sensation; I wanted to leave, to get out of there immediately. The hoca was talking, but I just wanted to say, “Be quiet, hoca, please!” I couldn’t even stand his voice. The hoca read prayers for quite a while for all three of us. He did some things to break the curse on me. Then he wrote down some prayers for me to recite a certain number of times. He cleansed us and sent us off.

When we left the hoca’s house, I felt lighter; I wasn’t afraid anymore, not even a little. At night, I recited the prayers my hoca told me and went to sleep. Later in the night, I woke up when the kitchen balcony door opened. I saw it with my own eyes, and that voice was calling me again. But this time, they couldn’t come to my bedside. After my second and third readings (of the prayers), whether psychologically or not, I started feeling thoroughly safe. My old cheerfulness began to return; everything started making sense. I was grateful to be saved.

Two months passed, and when I asked my husband again about what happened that night, he said, “I’m sorry for not believing you,” and began to tell me: While I was sleeping that night, he heard whispering sounds and woke up when the bed shook. At our bedside, there were some entities whose faces were unseen, unclear whether they were human or animal. One of them was sitting on his chest. He screamed in panic and jumped out of bed. Or rather, he thought he woke up the moment he jumped. Saying, “Phew, it was a dream,” just as he was about to lie back down, he heard whispering sounds coming from the door. As he stared towards the door, I had apparently sat up in bed with my eyes closed and turned towards the direction of the sounds. My husband panicked, jumped up, held me, and laid me back down. He couldn’t sleep until morning after that.

Now, compared to those days, I am much more comfortable, but the moment I stop reciting my prayers, they disturb me at night. We are not alone in this world. May Allah protect us all from ill-intentioned beings, both those our eyes see and those they don’t. The only weapon against them is prayer.

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