A Declaration That Drove Out the Shadow | by Charles Avlon

What followed was no ordinary dream. There was no discernible sense of linear time — I couldn’t tell whether the vision came before the dream or after — but for the sake of storytelling, I’ll recount what happened in the order that makes the most sense.

In the vision, I saw the basement exactly as it was from the perspective of lying in bed. I found myself studying a chalkboard that didn’t exist in the physical world, fixed to the bathroom enclosure’s outer wall. Written on it was a short list of phrases, each one intended to banish an unwanted presence.

In the dream, I was inside an antique mall set within a large, well-lit warehouse. I wandered into one of the cubicles, browsing casually while speaking with a woman I could hear but not see. She asked how I was doing, and what had been going on. I told her things were going well, except for the dark presence watching us in the basement.

She replied, “Have you tried checking near the 8-track tapes?”

The moment she said that, I was transported to the basement bathroom, where the light was always on. But I was taller — seven or eight feet — and I wasn’t in control. I was seeing through the eyes of my astral self, yet I wasn’t in the driver’s seat, only a passenger.

By the time all of this had registered, my astral body was already out of the bathroom, taking the shortest route — right, then left, then left again — gliding through the cluttered basement toward the pile of 8-track tapes at the foot of our bed.

As I came around the last corner, I saw it — beside the pile stood a small, black humanoid figure, no more than four feet tall. The only details I could make out were the faint glint of light on its bald head and the sharp silhouette of pointed ears. It stood perfectly still, like a statue carved from shadow, watching us sleep.

Without hesitation, my astral self closed in from behind.
Just before its hands reached the creature’s shoulders, the shadowy figure executed an impossible 180-degree turn — without pivoting its body or shifting its feet.

One moment, its gaze was fixed on Katie and me in the bed.
The next — its head was tilted upward, locked on my astral self.

Time thickened.

The space between us seemed to contract.
Pressure closed in, dark and heavy.

My astral body’s hands clamped down on its shoulders.

Its featureless face was pitch black. From that void, its piercing stare drilled into me — cold, hollow and endless.

Primal terror surged through every fiber of my being — I recoiled in revulsion, but my perspective was a mask I couldn’t tear away.

My astral self stood firm, unmoved and unshaken.

Then we spoke — our calm, steady authority carrying the weight of a sacred declaration:

“You have no place here.”

I awoke instantly, still speaking the words aloud. The oppressive presence was gone. The house was quiet and peaceful.
I’ve always been able to pull myself out of frightening dreams at will. But this time, being unable to wake made it clear I hadn’t been dreaming.