Good night's sleep

The kids keep waking me up in the middle of the night.

Thing is, we don't have kids.

Every night is the same. I wake up to two little boys at my bedside staring at me, flashlight in hand, with looks of absolute terror on their faces. It freaks me out, man. Kids can be so creepy. But I'm half asleep and disoriented, so it doesn't seem weird to walk them to their room and put them to bed.

I somehow know their names, too: Luke and Jack, eight and six, two cute black-haired boys with pale skin and blue eyes, just like their Mom, my wife. Man, this is weird. I tuck them in, assure them that everything is fine, and then shuffle back to bed.

This has happened every night for two weeks. I'm starting to lose my mind.

My wife sleeps peacefully through this. She's always been a heavy sleeper, and lately, I've noticed an extra glass of wine at dinner and prescription sleeping pills on her nightstand. I don't judge. She has a high-stress job in the city. Her caseload must be insane because the house is practically filled with boxes. Her firm works her far too hard for what they pay her.

No, I can't bring this up to her. She has enough on her plate. We're not religious. We don't believe in the supernatural. If I bring this up, she'd have me in Dr. Moore's office talking about wish-fulfillment or my mother, and honestly, I just need a good night's sleep.

At first, I thought it was sleepwalking. So I tried locking our bedroom door, but that made no difference; the boys still came. I tied my ankle to the bedpost but must have wriggled free in my sleep. I even put a bowl of water in the hallway, hoping something cold and wet would startle me awake. Nothing worked.

I recently found an old security camera in the attic. We bought it for our first apartment together as a precaution. The camera is pretty simple - it uses an SD card to take a picture every thirty seconds. It stops when you turn it off or the card is full. At least this will show me if I'm getting up at night or if it's all in my head. I set it on my nightstand with a good view of our bedroom door.

Like clockwork, the boys come again.

I wait until my wife leaves for work before looking at the files.

There are hundreds of pictures, mostly of absolutely nothing — just my empty bedside in grainy black and green night vision. Then, finally, one looks different - our bedroom door has opened slightly. I feel a tightness in my chest, the kind you get at the top of a roller coaster.

[Next photo] The bedroom door is fully open in this one, and I can make out two faint and grainy shapes in the doorway.

[Next photo] It's Luke and Jack. There they are, in full closeup. Two little boys that do not live in my house are showing up clear as day.

I take a deep breath.

[Next photo] The boys look scared and sad, like they always do, night after night in what I really hoped was just a dream.

[Next photo] The boys turn away from me now, heading to "their room."

I know I'm in the next one. This will be photographic proof that I'm reacting to something real and physical in our house. I feel like I'm going to be sick.

[Next photo] Jack and Luke are farther away now.

[Next photo] Nearly out of sight, too far away from the camera to see anything.

[Next photo] The door half closes behind them.

[Next photo] My empty bedroom again.

I cycle back a few photos and rewatch the stills. The boys come in, stay for a few moments, and leave. I have proof now.

I just don't understand one thing.

Where am I?