There's something wrong. There's always been something wrong, really, in the subtly unsettling way of a good film. Something off that you can't put your fingers onto -- only it's beginning to become less subtle.
It's still small, a growing sort of horror testing out its legs for the first time. Tiny anomalies in the carefully familiar fabric of time -- people freezing in place for a second too long, small animals moving from one place to another in the span of a blink without really visibly moving at all. Imperceptible flows of water running backwards for a few seconds before righting themselves.
Family members repeating lines that they've already spoken, and then acting surprised when you remind them they've already said that. Just a few seconds ago, in fact.
Tiny hiccups, tiny glitches. Nothing to be worried about, really, after all.
It's not like you sleep much, it could all just be in your head. Right?