I can’t think of anything supernatural. I’m usually quick to dismiss a lot of such things. I mean, I get scared, but I like to explore the instants and find reasonable explanations.

However, I do get paranoid when I’m overly tired and things can get interesting at night - interesting indeed, as I’m a night sky enthusiast. One that stands out is when I was stargazing in some December. I had a good view of Orion and Taurus. I was bouncing around clusters and nebulas with my binoculars. At some point, the paranoia started setting in, unbeknownst to me in my caffeinated state. I looked back towards Taurus, with its face, the 5-star V, was squared to the horizon and staring at me. It was so oddly inescapable. No clouds, no roof, no concept of scale. Just this massive, unwavering bull face that felt infinitely large and distant, yet somehow tangibly terrestrial, like the sky was painted overhead. I looked to Orion to see if I could shake it, but that face was still locked onto me in my peripheral. Even when I looked at the other end of the sky, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched. It didn’t help that I was on a beach, so the waves drown the sound of anyone approaching in the sand, adding to the paranoia. I opted to pack it in and take the queue that I’m sleep deprived. It was an excellent night of stargazing, though. The water was choppy, but the sky was so clear that the stars looked to come right down to the horizon’s edge. It was as close as I’ve ever been to experiencing something resembling the scene in that Pirates of the Caribbean movie where they sail off the edge.