My Watch Thinks I’m Nameless

My wife had been on me about my weight for a while. Said I needed to start taking my health seriously — “for our children,” whatever that means.

I didn’t argue. I just started going to the gym after work. Seemed easier than fighting about it.

She was so happy she bought me an Apple Watch for my birthday. Said it would help keep me accountable.

If only she knew what it would record.

It worked great at first. Tracked my workouts. Counted my steps.

Buzzed at me when I sat too long, like a disappointed teacher.

I didn’t mind it. Made me get off the couch for a change.

The part that surprised me was the sleep tracking.

With all this exercise and weight loss, I finally started being more active with my kids again. I started taking them to the park.

I took them a lot. They loved it, and so did I — but this is where it gets weird. I met this man at the park, just sort of milling around.

I assumed he was a grandfather or maybe another parent. He seemed nice enough. A little odd, though. He seemed to have trouble breathing.

We started talking, and eventually he asked for my name. At the time, I thought nothing of it and told him.

I gave him my name, and he smiled and just walked off. I had kids to deal with. What did I care?

I forgot how much work having kids, a job, and now the gym really was. While I normally felt pretty good, after a month or so I started getting tired a lot quicker.

The sleep function on the watch was helpful. It tracked my heartbeat, my breathing, and when I was in deep sleep versus light sleep.
No clue how it did all of that, but it got the job done.

I was sipping coffee one morning when my wife casually asked me,
“Hey, why were you up and moving around at three a.m.?”

“I wasn’t,” I said, with a confused laugh.

“Really? That’s not what your watch is saying.” She sounded a little miffed.

I dismissed her at the time. Tech glitches. Not a big deal.

Until it happened a few nights later.

She asked me about it again, this time even more annoyed. I placated her, but I was a little confused myself.

The third time it happened, I decided to take a look at the numbers myself. I figured if I could show her it was just a glitch, she’d relax.

“Sweetheart, you really think I got out of bed and got so worked up at two-thirty in the morning that my heart rate hit one-thirty? Does that really make sense to you?”

What the watch showed was this:

According to it, I’d been awake from 2:27 to just after 3:00 a.m. Not restless. Awake. My heart rate didn’t spike and drop like you’d expect if I’d just rolled over or had a bad dream — it stayed elevated the entire time, hovering between 120 and 130 beats per minute.

My breathing rate was up too. Fast and uneven, the way it usually gets when I’m halfway through a hard set at the gym.

The movement graph didn’t show pacing or steps, just long stretches of sustained motion, like I was standing in one place and shifting my weight.

Then, right around 3:05, everything dropped back to normal at once. Heart rate. Breathing. Movement.

The watch marked it as me falling back asleep.

I’d like to think it was just a glitch, but part of me felt like that was too consistent.
What was it capturing in that time frame?

My wife was the one who suggested using one of those apps that records you while you sleep. She said it might help clear all of this up.

I could tell she was getting fed up with me. I hadn’t done anything wrong, though, so like usual, I just agreed with her.

The first few nights everything seemed pretty normal.

I finally had proof that my wife snored in her sleep, which I won’t lie, felt like a small win.

After maybe the third night, things got weird.

There would be long stretches of silence, the kind you expect when everyone’s asleep. Then, out of nowhere, it would be punctuated by wet, ragged breathing.

We checked to see if the breathing lined up with anything my watch was telling me that was out of place.
From about 2:30 to just after 3:00 a.m., I went from awake to exercise, and my heart rate climbed to 150 beats per minute.

My wife was absolutely pissed at this point.
The gym in the morning was one thing, but why the fuck was I “working out” at two-thirty in the morning?

I honestly had no answers.
It didn’t make any sense to me either.

The next night things got even weirder, and honestly I was getting sick of this mess just as much as she was.

The breathing happened again.
Closer this time.

And it wasn’t the only thing we heard.

There was a sound like something being dragged along the floor. Slow. Steady.
Like a blanket.

Or maybe a rope.

If I thought she was pissed before, this time she was off her rockers.
She started accusing me of doing all sorts of weird shit and promised that over the next few nights she was going to stay awake to make sure I wasn’t pulling anything.

I agreed with her.
Boy, what a mistake that was.

Now, this is all according to her, so I’m not sure how accurate any of this is.

She claims I was talking in my sleep. Muttering. Tossing and turning. Saying the same word over and over again.

“Nafnlaus.”

She wanted to know what that meant. She told me I must know what it meant.
But I’d never heard that word in my life.

It didn’t stop there.

She said I’d been complaining about my ankle. That the tossing and turning was because it hurt.

According to her, I kept saying it felt like something was pulling on it.

I did some research, and restless leg syndrome actually seemed to make sense. I told her about it, and it seemed to calm her down.

We still decided to keep recording. It kept happening, but at that point I was getting used to the weirdness. I think she was too.

Things escalated further.

I woke up one morning and my leg was actively in pain. My ankle was burning.

I tried to play it off at first and keep it to myself. I was probably overthinking it.

That was until I was getting ready for work and finally looked at my ankle.

It was burned.

Not scraped. Not bruised.

Rope burn.

Like someone had wrapped something around my ankle and pulled on it hard.

“The sheets,” I told myself. “Of course. I must have rolled around and gotten caught in the sheets.”

Needless to say, I had a pretty stressful couple of nights after that.

Finally, my wife had another good idea.

Instead of ruining her sleep, we could get a nanny cam to see what was going on.

God, I wish we hadn’t.

I don’t want to tell you what I saw. That would make it real.

I know I have to tell you anyway.

Most of the night was normal. My wife snoring. Silence.

But at 2:30 a.m., things changed.

I started saying it again.

Nafnlaus.

Out of the corner of the room, I saw what looked like a shape glide out and stop at the foot of my bed. It was only there for a split second.

Around that time, I suddenly started to struggle. Like I was fighting something that was pulling me.

That lasted about thirty minutes.

Then I just stopped.

I went back to sleep like nothing had happened.

My watch has been glitching out too. Keeps popping up with my account and saying “Nameless.”
I’m not even sure what should be in its place, though.

I don’t think I’m going to show my wife this anymore.

Credit: Marlin Rome

Reddit