I was coming to the end of a relapse on drugs, feeling mentally and physically broken. My life had reached a low point, and I dreaded the upcoming withdrawal, knowing it would be as inevitable and devastating as a car crash. Seeking solace, a friend provided me with a bottle of vodka and a handful of Valium. In the early dark morning of winter, I consumed these substances at his house. The next thing I remember is waking up in my own bed, 16 hours later. The room was engulfed in darkness, and an ominous presence filled the air. I was paralyzed with fear as I noticed a man standing to the left of my bed, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a dark suit. His face had a lifeless, eerie appearance, and his intense gaze was fixed upon me. Desperately, I attempted to cry out to God, but I could scarcely form words. After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only 5 to 10 minutes, I closed my eyes momentarily. When I opened them again, the man had moved, and he was now inches away from my face, still staring intently. It seemed as though my impending death was imminent, and he had come to claim my soul. His face conveyed a disturbing combination of extreme evil and a taunting grin. He whispered words in a language I couldn’t comprehend. I remained immobile, trapped in this unsettling state for what felt like 20 minutes, until suddenly, he vanished into thin air. In the following days, the mere recollection of this event triggered intense panic attacks. Initially attributing it to withdrawal symptoms, I later stumbled upon references to the “hat man” online, confirming his existence and shattering my doubts.
