A man in a suit leaves my closet every morning and whenever I try to talk to him he just says he’s running late for work and walks out the front door.

I’m going to start off this post with a story from when I was about five years old because I think it might be related to what’s happening to me now. It was the spring before I was slated to start elementary school—my birthday’s at the end of August and my parents didn’t want me to be the youngest in my class because they had both been the youngest in their classes in school and they’d hated it, so they held me back a year—and it was a nice Sunday afternoon, so my family was doing what we always did: visiting as many open houses as we could in the hours from 2pm-4pm when a lot of realtors in town would hold one of their listed houses open to the public.

My parents both worked in real-estate at the time, so they knew most of the realtors at the houses and would end up talking with them for most of the time we visited. They’d let me wander around the houses while they chatted, and then they’d quickly come find me when they wanted to move on to the next house. I remember this one afternoon in particular because something really weird happened to me at one of the houses—at least I think it did—that day. It was the last house that my parents had planned on visiting that afternoon, and it was probably 3:45pm by the time we walked inside.

It was a two-story house with a large double-door entryway. I vividly remember the huge, curved staircase right inside the front door because I ran straight up it the second I got inside. I waved at my parents from the balcony before running down the upstairs hallway. All the doors but one were completely open. A narrow door near the end of the hall was only cracked. So, being the curious child I was, I went straight to it and looked inside. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I remember that I was just a little disappointed. It was an empty closet, barely big enough for me to sit criss-cross applesauce on the floor.

I thought it’d be fun to hide in there until my parents came to get me. I don’t remember there being anyone else in the house at the time. I think I sat there for maybe five minutes—which felt like about a day and a half for me at the time—before I got bored and stood up to open the door. This is the part I’m not quite sure about, so forgive me, but I could swear that when I opened the door, there was another closet on the other side. I was looking at an identical closet to the one that I was in. I remember being really upset by this. I definitely started crying. 

I think I cried for a really long time. I still have dreams about this every now and then, except each time I have the dream it’s all a little fuzzier than the last time. I must’ve closed the door again because the next time it opened, my parents were on the other side. They asked me what was wrong and I told them I was trapped and they shrugged it off saying that I had just shut the door, that’s all, I just needed to open it and I wouldn’t be in the dark anymore. The more I think about it, I don’t know how I could even see the other closet because there were no windows or lights in either closet, and if they were facing each other, there shouldn’t have been any way for any light at all to get in.

I don’t remember much about the rest of the day except that I got a milkshake from McDonald’s like we always did when we went to look at houses because the time coincided with happy hour at McDonald’s.

But, that brings us back to what’s currently happening to me. I feel like it has to be related, but I have no idea how something like that could have happened. Every time I think about it, I feel like it had to have been a dream, but I remember parts of it so vividly that it can’t possibly have just been a dream, if that makes sense?

I bought this house about two years ago. And I know what you’re probably thinking. I should check the closet for false walls or secret doors or anything that would give me an idea of where this guy might be coming from, but I’ve already done that, and I’m disappointed—and also perhaps a little relieved at the same time—to say that there is no way that I can think of that this suited man could enter my closet at any point without my knowledge in order to exit it each morning. I’ve even tried closing myself inside the closet like I did that one Sunday when I was five to see if anything happens. It’s just not possible by any physical means. I mean it’s a standard linen closet from what I can tell.

That’s the other thing. He closes the closet door behind him whenever he leaves. So, I can’t see what the closet looks like while he’s in it because by the next time I open it, it’s back to normal. I read a little bit of science fiction every now and then, and growing up, my father owned every single episode of every Star Trek series on DVD, and I have watched them all—with the exception of a fair amount of Star Trek: Next Generation (which I have been told I absolutely need to finish). So, as crazy as this sounds, my only guess as to how this man gets into my closet is that perhaps he’s able to “beam in” somehow? Kind of like what happened when I was younger—again, I’m assuming it’s a similar phenomenon.

I probably should mention this too, just so any suggestions can be as informed as possible, but this only started about a month ago. There’s no way for me to know the exact day the man began leaving my closet because it seems to have started while I was out of town on a week-long backpacking trip with a few friends I still keep up with from college. The morning after I got back, I heard the closet door open while I was in the bathroom and I thought I caught a glimpse of something turning the corner at the end of the hall, but I was still pretty drowsy, so I didn’t think too much of it until it happened again the next morning, and the next morning, and the next. 

I’ve thought about contacting the police about it, but I don’t even like the thought of having an awkward social interaction with unfamiliar people to begin with, so telling someone in-person or over the phone that I think a man is teleporting into my closet every morning because he’s “running late for work” is possibly the last thing that I want to do, especially since they definitely won’t do anything about a crazy complaint like that. This is a little different because typing this out on my computer and posting it here doesn’t come with as much pressure. You’re all just people inside my computer.

Oh, and one more thing. The man doesn’t show up on weekends, in case that matters to anyone. Like I said, I want to make sure you guys know as much as I know so that any suggestions are as informed as possible. There are a few things that I’ve thought of trying, but I want to see if you guys end up suggesting any of those before I try them because it feels better to try something that someone else has told me I should try than to do things on my own, especially with something as strange as this, just in case something goes wrong. It’s one of those things, I feel like if I do anything entirely on my own I’ll end up with some half-cocked, rash idea. In my mind, waiting to hear suggestions so I can compare my own ideas against all of yours is a kind of way for me to check myself before I do something that I might not be able to undo. Measure twice, cut once, and all that. 

Okay, I think that’s everything. I myself am gonna be running late for work if I don’t end things here. I hope to check back soon to go over your suggestions and to keep you all updated on anything I end up trying and anything that changes with the man who leaves my closet every morning on his way to work. Until then, I just want to thank you all in advance for your help!