It was in the dead of night, as I slept in my bed, when it announced its presence in the form of indistinguishable murmurs from across the room. It was not the voice of anything that should exist on the natural plain. I had heard it before, twice to my knowing: the first when I sat beside my mother’s hospital bed as she took her dying breaths, and the second, when I had miraculously survived a heart attack years later. It spoke hoarsely, with a deep and guttural tone. Somehow, its incessant chatter seemed articulate; as though with a vocabulary not too dissimilar from that which us humans use, but of an entirely foreign language. A language, perhaps, that only the dead and the dying could understand.
I sat upright in my bed, and the sheets slithered down my torso exposing my bare chest.
“Hello?” I said into the thick blanket of shadows that enveloped the bedroom. There was nothing in the way of reply, and its strange, outward monologue had quickly dwindled into whispers before returning the room to silence. I sat and listened for a moment, waiting for it to resume. It did not. I slid back into my bed and pulled the cover tight over my chest.
I had almost dozed away into sleep when it began again. This time the source was not from the corner of the room, but rather, from under the bed. I listened intently, and for reasons unbeknownst to me, I was suddenly able to decipher its ineffable utterances. I heard but one word, or name, or phrase, being repeated over and again.
“Oh… mi… bo… bo…”
I tried to muster enough courage to call out into the darkness again, but both my body and my spirit had frozen. It was as though every letter and every word I had ever known had been stripped away by my complete abhorrence toward this haunting creature, and all I could conjure from my mouth was a groan of intense fear. Still I listened, and still it continued. It was not calling to me, but instead, it spoke to itself.
It wasn’t long after that when I heard it scuttle back, with frantic footsteps across the linoleum, to its original position in the corner of the room. There was a moment of misplaced bravery that had erected within the deepest alcoves of my soul, and I turned to look upon it. There was a humanoid mass in the corner of the room, darker than any shade or shadow I had ever seen. It was much, much taller than any man and its upper back arched along where the wall met ceiling. I was not able to see any of its minor intricacies through the blackness of the night, but I met its eyes with my own. There they fixated, and I was not able to turn away. They were like two stars in the night sky, burning brightly, and each containing secrets of the universe.
Images of omnipotent beings and worlds yet to be explored flooded my mind simultaneously. I saw horrifying creatures, ancient caverns, and strange botanies of far off lands. I saw fire and ice, light and dark, plains of torment and realms of luxury, governing seraphic entities and haunting spectres; all at once and not at all. Our link faded and I was conscious once again in the dark room. The creature had disappeared.
At the time I was unsure of my encounter with what I would henceforth call Omibobo. But no matter how many times I had tried to convince myself that it was just a dream, I knew otherwise. It is clear to me now that I had not met a scion of Lucifer, but instead, I had been visited by a celestial emissary from far beyond the observable cosmos; and for reasons I know not, it had chosen me to teach to its knowledge of the universe.