tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53236601463827997232024-02-29T21:39:34.684-08:00Time Slip AccountsA time slip is a phenomenon in which a person becomes temporarily displaced in time. Some of these stories have been circulating for years and some have been submitted by readers. A few are experiences either of my own or of my friends. Please contact me at acaciagold@gmail.com with any questions or submissions of your own. Thanks, and enjoy reading!Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-67899073022628369832021-12-20T07:59:00.001-08:002021-12-20T08:17:49.072-08:00 Family Inexplicably Reappears in Different Place <p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">Thanks to Reddit poster dgmiller70 for permission to share this story: </span></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"><br></span></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">This one happened tonight. It’s also my first post here.</span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; min-height: 24px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">My wife and I were walking our three dogs on a beach access, coming back from the beach around 7pm. I know, it’s mid-December, but it was still in the mid-60s here and our Huskies love the beach. We met a family from Ohio near the middle of the narrow beach access, which is about 300 feet from beach to street. The mother and daughter walked past us and continued to the beach, but the father and son stopped to pet the dogs and talked to us for maybe 5 minutes. They used to have a Husky and enjoyed loving on our boys while chatting about various things. The father was wearing a yellow team sweatshirt and the son was wearing a black cloth face mask.</span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; min-height: 24px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">The father received a phone call from his wife urging him to join her on the beach, so we went our separate ways. They continued toward the beach and we continued toward the street. </span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; min-height: 24px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">The entire south side of this beach access is faced by a tall construction fence that runs from the swash channel (filled with water) to the street. There is no way through. At the end of the swash channel is a coffer dam out into the ocean. They are building a new fishing pier, restaurant, and parking area here and it is completely blocked off. There is a restaurant along the north side of the beach access.</span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; min-height: 24px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">When we reached the street, we turned south in front of the construction fence, which runs along the sidewalk, and walked to the next building, about 50 feet south of the beach access. There, we waited.for two cars to pass (about 30 seconds) and crossed the street to walk down an alley next to a barbecue restaurant. We then stopped at the barbecue restaurant’s patio to ask the hostess if dogs were allowed on the patio. </span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; min-height: 24px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">While speaking with the hostess (who started feeding our dogs treats from her apron), we saw the family from the beach access come out of the restaurant with their food and sit at a table on the patio. Same yellow sweatshirt, same black face mask, same family of four.</span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; min-height: 24px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;"></span><br></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody;">There is no possible way for them to have made it from where we passed them on the beach access to the restaurant in the time they did, and without passing us. That access, and the sidewalk, is just a few feet wide. It just isn’t possible. And also in time for them to get food? No way.</span></p> Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-9022686020566018472021-10-19T18:23:00.001-07:002021-10-19T18:31:03.680-07:00 A possible time slip to the 1950s or 60s<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Thanks to Pamela for this fascinating submission! </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">In May of 2006, I spent time with my sister in Charlotte, North Carolina. She had just moved to NC. I had driven there from my home from Georgia. I left Charlotte to head back to Georgia at 7:30 AM on May 22, 2006. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I followed my sister to the expressway because she was on her way to work at Uptown Charlotte. I continued on toward the expressway I-77 toward I-85 South. I remember driving and seeing landmarks that I’d taken notice of while traveling to North Carolina. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I really don’t remember anything else until I happened upon a fork in the road and saw a sign reading I-26. I was so confused because I had driven 2 hours and was completely unaware that I had traveled in another direction. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I had no memory of traveling for 2 hours, and I couldn’t see where the highway led to on the right. I stayed left and pulled over and called my sister. I was in a panic because I didn’t know what happened. We talk for a few minutes and she told me to see if I could get off and head back the way I came from.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">This where it gets weird:</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">About a mile down the expressway, I got off at the first exit on the right. Off to the right was a gas station. I noticed that the area looked kind of isolated and the road was gravel and in bad shape. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The buildings were old, red brick buildings, the windows were broken, and some had cardboard up to them. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">There was no traffic on the roads and no sidewalks; however, when I pulled up to the gas station, there were about six cars there. I decided to go in to see if someone could tell me where I was and how I could find I-85.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Now, when I went inside the gas station, I noticed a few people in there. The cashier was a tall, heavy-set, white man with a full beard and wearing a blue jean overall. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I went up to the cashier to ask him questions, but he ignored me and was talking to other customers. I then tried to speak to some of the customers, but they ignored me too. I became scared because I thought that they ignored me because I was black. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I felt so defeated and lost, and I decided to go back to my car. On my way back to my car, I noticed 2 young white guys possibly in their early twenties. They had white pants and white T-shirts, and they were walking toward a white van. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The young man on my immediate right was walking with his head down, and the other guy on his right looked to be play-kicking and trying to play around with him. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I walked up to the guy on my right to ask him for directions. He appeared confused, as though I were a strange being. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">He would briefly look up at me but he mostly kept his head down. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The other guy didn’t seem to see me at all; he didn’t acknowledge me or his friend talking to me.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I was walking right beside the the guy asking him questions and he said that he worked in Augusta, Georgia and had no ideal about I-85. He had a look on his face like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">It was then that I realized that his friend and the people in the station didn’t talk to me because they couldn’t see me! </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I got back on I-26 for another mile until I saw a turn-around and headed back toward the way I’d come from. I then started seeing signs that I was on I-77 and signs for Columbia South Carolina. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Eventually, I saw a policeman and debated if I should get his attention. I decided not to because of fear that he wouldn’t see me. So I stayed behind him until I reached the turn for Charlotte. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">During my ride back to Charlotte, nothing was familiar to me. I don’t remember having seen any of the signs, exits, or landmarks. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I finally made it back to Charlotte. I’d had no idea what happened to me, and almost 5 hours of my life was gone. I made it back to Georgia </span><span style="font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline;">at 3:30 PM; it</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> is normally a 4 hour trip! </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I don’t know if this is related, but when I got home my face, arms, legs, and chest were broken out so badly that I had to go to the emergency room to get treatment. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I still find myself wondering what exactly happened - where had I been and why everything had looked like the 1950/60’s. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 21.9px;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The sun was out and shining bright in Charlotte, but at the gas station exit it had been overcast and gloomy. It had appeared completely deserted except for the people at the gas station. There had been no buildings around the gas station; the only buildings were down on the right from the gas station and those were unoccupied and old with broken windows. There were no street lights, no traffic, no grass and minimal trees - everything had looked dead. </span></p> Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-2613594827462132062021-01-30T09:11:00.002-08:002021-01-30T09:11:13.792-08:00Time Loop in Leeds, UK<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Thanks to James Fisher for this submission:</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">This incident occurred in February 2019 in Leeds, UK.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I was in the city centre in a busy area near to Leeds Central Library and the Art Gallery. It was around midday and I was sitting on a bench with my son eating a sandwich. We were watching people passing by as we ate when a man both caught our attention.<br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">He was in his 50s, dressed smartly in a suit, and was jogging very quickly past us whilst holding a drink. We both commented on him as it was unusual to see a man dressed in such a formal manner jogging at that speed, but also interesting that he managed to keep his drink upright whilst doing so.<br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">We both watched as he went past and disappeared around a corner behind a large building about 100 metres away. We both returned to our lunch when no more than two seconds later the same man, dressed in identical clothes, carrying the same drink and jogging at the same pace, passed again in front of our bench exactly as he had done a few seconds previously. He took the same route and disappeared around the corner just as before.<br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">There is no way that he could have returned to the same spot to repeat his run in the amount of time which had elapsed, even if he had been driven there. It was literally a matter of seconds. There is also no way he could have come from around the corner to return to this spot as we would have seen him.<br /></p><p style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I believe this was a case of a minor time slip, albeit lasting only a few seconds.<br /></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I've enclosed a map to show you the route he took.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDsnFfWdMBjEVFmvwRtrHFHXxG6AA3Lyehh4uAcyyFXaxEvRYr02WTJ5e03mxkDrDvJBv9MMY_KRe-ZFsY1F8ayvop6Y93yd3rn8mGymLw8XVqlvw_WmIO3I6hgf5IQGRj08SyrvXzF0A/s1563/Map.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="603" data-original-width="1563" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDsnFfWdMBjEVFmvwRtrHFHXxG6AA3Lyehh4uAcyyFXaxEvRYr02WTJ5e03mxkDrDvJBv9MMY_KRe-ZFsY1F8ayvop6Y93yd3rn8mGymLw8XVqlvw_WmIO3I6hgf5IQGRj08SyrvXzF0A/s320/Map.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div>Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-82369593767117440582021-01-18T12:48:00.004-08:002021-01-18T12:48:48.350-08:00Soldiers from the Past: a Time Slip in the New Forest<p><span style="font-family: arial;">Thanks to David Dwyer of the UK for this submission:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">My own experience happened in late Sept. 2020, near the town of Brockenhurst, in the New Forest. I had moved to Winchester a couple of weeks previously in order to start a short term job to keep me going until I got my visa and left the country. It was a nice day so I looked up a walk in the New Forest using a phone app called New Forest Walks and settled on one to a spot called Buckland Rings, about a 3 – 4 hour walk. I parked in the railway station car park and set off at a leisurely pace. Enjoying the scenery, the old church etc., I spoke to a couple of people as I passed them and stopped several times to take photographs. I wanted to get used to using my DSLR camera before emigrating. After a couple of hours - at about 1 pm approximately - I walked off the track, found a tree stump to sit on and eat my pack lunch. After finishing that, I starting walking back and took a few more shots.<u></u><u></u></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">After a while walking I became aware of some movement in the trees to my left and looked over to see a group of soldiers moving at a jogging pace, spread over about 50 – 60 meters moving across my path. They were dressed in old fashioned uniform, khaki, not camouflage, tin hats, some with twigs and small branches, carrying old fashioned rifles, not modern rifles. Prominent at the front, leading them and encouraging them was a soldier carrying a pistol and blowing a whistle. The group moved across my path; I was aware of some being behind me, but I did not turn around. The noise and sounds of them grew until I felt in the midst of it. But just as quickly the group moved about 30 meters to the right, the sound went, and the group disappeared. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I assumed the group were reenactors or similar due to the old style clothing and rifles, and I made a mental note to find out who they were when I got home. I completed the walk, got in the car and drove home.<u></u><u></u></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In the next couple of days I emailed the New Forest authority and asked if they could let me know who the group was. They replied that they had no idea and suggested I contact Brockenhurst College to see if it was the army cadets etc. from there. Once again, the response was that they had no idea who it was and it was nothing to do with them. I still have the emails.<u></u><u></u></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><u></u> <u></u></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I left it at that until recently finding out about time slips and have become more intrigued by what I experienced.</span></p>Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-64265434428235584042020-12-03T04:36:00.003-08:002020-12-19T11:33:07.953-08:00A woman hears a live radio show after its broadcast <div><span face="-apple-system, HelveticaNeue" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(212, 212, 213); color: #313131; font-size: 1rem; word-spacing: 1px;">This is an anonymous submission. The experience took place on 11-27-2020:</span></div><div><span face="-apple-system, HelveticaNeue" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(212, 212, 213); color: #313131; font-size: 1rem; word-spacing: 1px;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="-apple-system, HelveticaNeue" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(212, 212, 213); color: #313131; font-size: 1rem; word-spacing: 1px;">I have just had an experience I simply cannot explain. I am feeling quite disoriented.</span></div><div><div data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" dir="auto" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); caret-color: rgb(212, 212, 213); color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 1rem; word-spacing: 1px;"><br /></div><div data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" dir="auto" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); caret-color: rgb(212, 212, 213); color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 1rem; word-spacing: 1px;">My son presents a radio show every Friday evening, 6pm - 9pm, for a community radio station. <span style="font-size: 1rem;">Each week he has a small competition and gives the answer just before 9pm when his show finishes. </span><span style="font-size: 1rem;">Tonight, I was listening and heard him say that he would give the answer just before 9pm (as always). I looked at the clock and it was already nearly 9:15. I checked the other clocks and all said the same time. </span><span style="font-size: 1rem;">I listened further, but his show had finished.</span></div><div data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" dir="auto" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); caret-color: rgb(212, 212, 213); color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 1rem; word-spacing: 1px;"><br /></div><div data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" dir="auto" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); caret-color: rgb(212, 212, 213); color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 1rem; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="font-size: 1rem;">I thought my son had made an embarrassing mistake in front of lots of listeners. </span><span style="font-size: 1rem;">I continued listening, thinking he must be presenting later than usual and that he would come back and make a joke about his mistake. </span><span style="font-size: 1rem;">However, he did not come back. The next show had already started.</span></div></div><div><div data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" dir="auto" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); caret-color: rgb(212, 212, 213); color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 1rem; word-spacing: 1px;"><br /></div><div data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" dir="auto" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; border-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); caret-color: rgb(212, 212, 213); color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 1rem; word-spacing: 1px;">I have spoken to him and he insists his show was the same as always. <span style="font-size: 1rem;">Therefore I was listening to a conversation that took place at 8:50 approximately. The time, however, was between 9:10 and 9:15 pm. </span><span style="font-size: 1rem;">The show was live and was not recorded. </span><span style="font-size: 1rem;">I somehow 'lost' about 20 minutes.</span></div></div><div><br /></div><div><span face="-apple-system, HelveticaNeue" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.25); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(212, 212, 213); color: #313131; font-size: 1rem; word-spacing: 1px;">I know this is nothing as exciting as some stories I have read about, but I truly believe I have experienced a time slip, albeit only for a few minutes. It has never happened to me before.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-52202834358024595152020-11-06T22:05:00.013-08:002020-11-07T06:46:38.205-08:00Forward Time Slip: Memory of a TV show that hasn’t aired yet?<p><span style="font-family: times;">This story is still developing, and I am posting for the record: </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">This evening, my friend David referenced an episode that he particularly liked of the TV show Young Sheldon. The rest of us listening to him had no recollection of such an episode, and we all have seen all the aired seasons at least twice. So my friend Chad Googled the show and found that the only description of such an episode is one that will air next week, Nov 12, 2020. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Yet, David had seen the episode. He was confused by our confusion. </span><span style="font-family: times;">So I asked him to type out the details he remembered from the episode. Here they are, exactly as he typed them: </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">“Young Sheldon volunteers at a train museum and gets let go, because he knows too much. </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Sheldon’s tomboy sister gets her period while going to her baseball game.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Dad has to help her by getting products at a pharmacy.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"> </span> <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Sheldon’s mom watches Roadhouse and bonds with older son about the movie.”</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">I know David is honest. Nor does he seem to have any interest in time slips. But just to cover all bases, I Googled some key words to see if I could find a synopsis with the details he gave. </span><span style="font-family: times;">As of this evening, this is CBS network’s synopsis of the Nov 12 show:</span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: times;">“Sheldon gets a summer job at the local train museum. Also, George and Missy bond when Missy embarks on a new stage of womanhood, and Georgie discovers Mary's guilty pleasure.”</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">Also, here is a link to a detailed speculation of next week’s preview. </span><a href="https://meaww.com/young-sheldon-season-4-episode-2-preview-george-missy-womanhood-period">https://meaww.com/young-sheldon-season-4-episode-2-preview-george-missy-womanhood-period</a></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">And another site with the CBS preview video: <a href="https://www.techradar247.com/2020/11/06/young-sheldon-season-4-episode-2-sheldon-and-missy-to-face-many-changes-major-plot-ahead/">https://www.techradar247.com/2020/11/06/young-sheldon-season-4-episode-2-sheldon-and-missy-to-face-many-changes-major-plot-ahead/</a></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: times;">So, we will have to wait a week to see if David’s account turns out to be accurate. And, if so, how did he see the episode before it aired? </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: times;">[Update: since posting this last night, I asked David for more details and he provided this: “</span></span>I remember Young Sheldon ringing a bell inside the museum and it irritates the guy who hired him. The gentleman who hired him has long straight hair and bald on top. Sheldon dresses up in a conductor’s suit; he wanted to look the part.“]</p>Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-51544135292535768082020-07-10T06:45:00.001-07:002021-02-02T10:59:14.368-08:00Impossibly-instant Weather Change on the A14 (UK)Thanks to Alan Macintyre for this story:<br />
<br />
<span style="border-color: rgb(49 , 49 , 49) rgb(49 , 49 , 49) rgb(49 , 49 , 49) rgb(204 , 204 , 204); color: #313131; font-family: , "helveticaneue"; word-spacing: 1px;">My wife and I experienced what could be a time slip yesterday on the new A14 east of Cambridge. We were driving in the rain and we could see a sunny, clearer sky ahead of us. We had just entered the area and I put my sun glasses on, when suddenly the entire sky was dark and cloudy. Thinking it was my glasses, I took them off.</span><br />
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I turned to my wife an asked, “Where did the sun go? It just changed in an instant.”</div>
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We were both confused and looked around. The clear sky we had seen earlier had gone completely.</div>
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It was as if we had moved back about 5 minutes.</div>
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We could not stop talking and puzzling about it. </div>
Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-78643132076737167812020-03-04T13:02:00.003-08:002021-02-02T11:00:06.587-08:00A 1947 Time Slip to the 1800sThanks to John P. Harris for this fascinating story:<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div align="center" class="Standard" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">East End Bombsite: Napoleonic Timeslip<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">While on
an ‘Anomalies’ themed chatroom back in 1998,
I found one user called Elizabeth,<br />
and kept as a regular
contact. While discussing themes such as UFO sightings,
crop circles, she then mentioned a case that her aunt had experienced after
the Second World War. I was curious, so Elizabeth sent fragmented
details via instant messenger of
her aunt’s incident. Elizabeth’s aunt ‘Beryl’ [actual name omitted on request] who felt she
might have slipped back to the early 1800's while exploring bomb
sites with her elder sister Daisy.<br />
<br />
On enquiry, I was told at the time that Beryl
constantly reflects on what she experienced,
emphasising it was not a hallucination or
a fragment of false memory.</span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><br />
It was 1947, and though the war had ended, it was still a tough time. Beryl
as a seven-year-old had returned to her parent’s home after
being evacuated from Mile End Road , situated in
London's east end. She
was sent to live with relatives in
Lincolnshire. Even as a child she found her original
home rather strange, but spent time like all of the other east end kids
by playing hopscotch or skipping in the semi derelict
streets.<br />
Beryl and her friends would use one of the battered
Victorian lampposts by lashing some old rope on the struts
to make a swing. Beryl always wanted to tag along
with her older sister Daisy and explore the
bombsites, as for most kids they were an adventure
playground.</span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><br />
‘Sometimes you can find hidden treasure’ said one
of Daisy's friends and added ‘Someone
I know found a load of silver 'thrupneys' in
an old vase'. Beryl, used to keep ‘mithering’ her elder sister
to tag along, Daisy always said no and kept repeating ‘it’s too dangerous.’<br />
However, on this occasion Daisy said ‘Come on then but don’t wander off because
you will fall down a massive hole.’</span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><br />
Beryl described this particular day. ‘It was cold we walked what
seemed for ages down the grimy damp streets as most of the buildings were in
various stages of falling down.’<br />
Beryl told her niece about how dangerous
it was. ‘The houses that were partially standing up were propped up
with massive wooden frames.’ In addition, you would get ‘half a house’
with the top room window frames with shards of glass sticking out like icicles,
tethered to ripped curtains. </span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><br />
They ended up on a street called Wellclose Square. 'It was an
odd place' said Beryl.<br />
She remembered how strange it was that some of
the buildings were not touched, but still remained empty
as most of the buildings were boarded up, except for one
tallish looking house that had a gap in
the wall like a giant mouse hole.</span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><br />
The house with the gap in the wall had a
back garden, which was choked with weeds, but for some odd
reason, Beryl found this
particular house enchanting. One of triggers of
the experience was the weeds; ‘The smell of the weeds
created a strange atmosphere.’<br />
Daisy was close by,
but decided to explore an old outhouse
and told Beryl to stay put.<br />
Beryl clambered across the garden and decided to
sneak into the hole that was under
the window.<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">As Daisy and her friends were throwing rocks onto
the roof of shed, Beryl peeked into the gap, as she was small enough
to squeeze through. While crawling through the gap trying to avoid the
loose bricks and cobwebs, as she squeezed through,
halfway into a room.</span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">
Beryl noticed a woman in old-fashioned
clothes wearing a white linen cap, peering over big metal
pot that was placed above a large open fireplace.</span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><br />
Taking a second glance, two other people appeared out of nowhere, one woman who
was dressed in grey clothes wearing a crumpled bonnet, moments later,
a man wearing a green coat with ribbings on the front, and a shako
hat walked into the room.<br />
Beryl described the scene ‘It was just like out of
the Gainsborough films we used to watch at
the pictures.’ [Gainsborough Studios, a London based film Production
Company who on occasions would produce historical
dramas].</span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><br />
Beryl added, ‘Inside the furniture looked really old-fashioned
spindly chairs, striped wall coverings even though a large fire was roaring
away in the large fireplace, I did not feel any heat.’ As she sneaked in
for a closer look, suddenly a small boy who
was dressed in a blue calico gown gave Beryl an
inquisitive look and waved at her, then began shouting.<br />
Somehow, as the toddler made such a noise, the other two
people did not hear him or did not take
notice. The boy continued to point and shout though
Beryl could not hear any sound, but crept back slowly and ran off.</span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><br />
‘Hey Daisy‘ as she scrambled across the foot strangling
weeds, ‘there are people in that empty house.’ Beryl tugged Daisy’s
jumper and pulled her towards the garden.<br />
‘What people?’ ‘It’s an empty house?’ said Daisy, ‘she
was a bit miffed.’<br />
Daisy still reluctant to follow Beryl across the weed strewn garden ‘you first
Daisy,’ said Beryl. Daisy said ‘Alright then I
am not scared’ and headed towards the ‘mouse hole’ in
the wall. Moments later,
Daisy replied ‘there’s nothing here just a dusty
room full of bricks and rubble. ‘Beryl then followed
inside, all she saw was a pile of wood, rubble and bits of coal strewn against
the wall and it smelt damp, which ruled out there ever been a fire. They
went back to the same place two days later.</span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><br />
The gap in the wall was not there, Beryl added
‘it looked intact as if there never had
been any hole or any form of damage,’ ‘
I even took a closer look at the exact
spot,’nothing it seemed untouched.’ I asked Elizabeth, what she thought. Her
viewpoint was that the location had a curious history and highlighted the
connection of the ‘people’ Beryl had seen.</span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;"><br />
Elizabeth studied the description of the man by researching historical records,
as the man, whom Beryl describes, may have been a soldier who might have been
off to war.<br />
or had returned home, he was dressed in the British army uniform that
could have dated to the Napoleonic war (1803-15).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<b><sup><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">© John p Harris </span></sup></b></div>
Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-81950160874969297252019-05-23T10:08:00.000-07:002019-05-23T10:08:36.559-07:00A Time-Slipping Kitchen/An Elevator from the PastThanks to Darren P for these submissions:<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2e2e; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have had two <span class="il">time</span> <span class="il">slips</span>, the first when I was 11 years old. I was looking through my house window at home hoping to see mum. Instead, there was a man wearing brown trousers and a white shirt stood at the kitchen sink. Then I noticed that the kitchen was different very old fashioned with what I now know as a Belfast sink. I entered the house only to see that the man had disappeared and the kitchen was back to it's 1979 norm. As a young boy, I was convinced this was a ghost.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2e2e; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2a2e2e; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fast forward 39 years and I was walking up a street after parking my car to go buy some lunch and noticed a very old elevator with metal folding doors in a small factory. I had not even noticed the factory before, so I walk over to investigate. There was a man operating the elevator dressed in a brown work coat (similar to you find in old hardware stores) and a few people already in. The operator said to me "are you getting in or what?". I did jump in and the elevator went up a floor and everyone alighted. The operator then asked me if I was getting off. "No thanks, I need to go back" I replied and then I alighted back on the ground floor and made my way to my car. After crossing the road and opening my car door I turned to look at the factory. It was no longer there. Instead, there was a row of shops and cafes. This was in broad daylight during my lunch hour and certainly not a dream. Only then did I realise that this was similar to the man and the sink when I was a child. I just cannot stop thinking about it now.</span>Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-6277308237378087492018-12-19T19:35:00.001-08:002018-12-23T05:41:06.359-08:00Two fascinating stories from Australia <div data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" data-removefontsize="true" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); color: #313131; font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; font-size: 1rem; word-spacing: 1px;">
Here are my time slip experiences, both from when before I became an adult:</div>
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The first time, I was looking for a ruler (I was homeschooled). My Mum told me there was one on the desk in the far corner of the lounge. As I walked over there, I passed my Dad on the computer. He had his email inbox up, but was talking on the phone to a contact of ours. I happened to notice in passing an unread email from the contact titled "Hannah" at the top of the inbox (immediately below it was an email we'd read earlier about Answers in Genesis' Ark Exhibit). I got the ruler, and headed back towards the kitchen. Just after I passed the computer, Dad said "No, it hasn't come in yet." I quickly looked and saw the the email "Hannah" WAS NOT THERE! At the top of the list was the read Ark email. a second later, I SAW THE EMAIL TITLED "HANNAH" FROM THE PERSON DAD WAS TALKING TO ARRIVE! Saw it with my own eyes. So, I saw an email before it was sent!</div>
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I found out afterwards that Hannah was the name of the contact's dog, and the email apparently contained a photo of the dog. I had earlier heard Dad (in the phone conversation) say something about a dog, but I hadn't paid much attention, and certainly hadn't heard the name!</div>
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The second time occurred while my Dad was out - although whether he was out visiting or shopping, or if he was on a trip, I don't remember. Anyway, my Dad rung, and Mum started talking with him on the phone (this is in the lounge - right next to the computer; about halfway along the lounge). While Mum was talking with him, the microwave in the back of the kitchen beeped, indicating it had preheated. She quietly asked me to sort it out. I walked (at a brisk pace) straight to the microwave, opened the door, hesitated for a second - and then saw Mum right behind me! Now, Mum is notoriously slow. It's become a running joke in the family. To have done that, she would have had to have immediately (and I mean literally IMMEDIATELY) hung up and walked quite quick behind me - which she had no reason to do. I confirmed with my sister (who was in the lounge at the time) that Mum CONTINUED talking with Dad for a short time after I left, which makes her appearing a metre or two behind me IMPOSSIBLE! Curiously enough, my sister said that while she hadn't paid attention to it at the time, there WAS a gap of time between when I entered the kitchen and when I opened the microwave (and I can personally attest that I DIDN'T DELAY!). Did I skip a few minutes of time?<br />
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Submitted by JM1999</div>
Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-54278404148524372832018-08-21T04:51:00.003-07:002018-08-21T04:51:56.365-07:00A Series of Time Slips from Texas to Egypt!I received these stories from an anonymous poster:<br />
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The first incident I recall was in 1975. I was at an old house in San Antonio. A couple of college friends lived there, but the house was about to be condemned so they were throwing a huge, boozy party one last time. Rumor had it that the house had been a bordello, but college kids and creepy rumors inevitably go together. Anyway, it was old, creaky, and huge. I went upstairs, and crept down a hallway with multiple doors on each side. I opened the door, and there was daylight.<br />
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And I saw two men arguing. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but I sensed it was about a woman. Apparently, they could not see me. Both men were in their late 20s, early 30s. One man was Latino. The other man had blond hair, and his shirt collar was open and sort of hanging weird. (I learned later this was probably a detachable collar, although I'd never heard of such a thing.) The Latino man pulled out a knife, and suddenly the blond man had a gun in his hand and shot the other man in the chest. Then, it was night again, and I could hear the party going on downstairs.<br />
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In 1981, I was visiting a friend in Eureka Springs, Arkansas. We went to a bar, located in the basement of an old, historic hotel. (I was not drinking alcohol.) Suddenly, the bar was gone. I was in a quiet room. In the room were two tables that looked like hospital exam tables. There were white sheets on the tables, and the room felt very clinical and sterile. I don't recall seeing anyone in there; just the room with two beds. And then...the bar returned. I asked my friend (I was pretty excited) what he knew about the history of the place. "Was it ever a hospital?" I said. But he knew nothing about it. This was in June. I couldn't stop thinking about what I saw, so in late October of that year I wrote out something much like what I've just shared, and put it in an envelope addressed to "Local Historian, c/o Eureka Springs, AK". I also enclosed a stamped, self-addressed envelope. All small towns had a "local historian" I figured. I mean what did I have to lose?<br />
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A couple of years passed. I moved to another apartment. Then, one day, my former land lady called me to tell me a letter had arrived at my old address. (Which in itself was odd, because she had never contacted me before.) I drove over to pick it up, and I was momentarily confused when I saw it, because it looked like my own handwriting! Of course, it was, and I had entirely forgotten that I'd ever sent it. Inside was a letter from, indeed, the local historian. Somehow, it had made its way to her. She explained that she had wanted to reply months ago, but the letter had fallen behind a dresser. She had just found it, and wrote back immediately. In the letter she said that the basement had served as a makeshift morgue during the Civil War, and that the room I had been in had served as the embalming room. She was really excited, and asked me to come back sometime and tour the town. But I had learned what I wanted to, and just let it drop.<br />
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After that, all sorts of small but odd things happened periodically. I would see the former occupants of a house, and sometimes even get a sense of who they were. For example: I would see a young woman who had lived there, and I would know that she very fond of a young boy. He was not a relative, but she felt very sisterly towards him. I could see them clearly (I still remember her cloche hat she wore, and how cute she looked.)<br />
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Some times I would smell things. One winter, when I lived in Scotland, my husband and I were driving in a particularly barren area. We saw an old castle, and a sign that said it was part of the Scottish trust. When we arrived, it was closed for the winter (this was 1993 or 94), but the caretaker drove up and kindly let us in to look around. I had been in many, many castles, but this one viscerally creeped me out. I had to leave one room, and I made my way to the lowest level. I relaxed once I was down there, because I could smell delicious bread baking. I did find that odd, but we all love that smell! A while later, the caretaker and my husband came down there, and I asked why they were baking bread today. My husband said he didn't smell anything. The caretaker just looked bemused, and told us that the area had once been a kitchen. Nothing had been baked in there for hundreds of years...<br />
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The last experience I will share is my most memorable. It happened in the Valley of the Kings, in Luxor, Egypt. It was 1996, and we were at the Ramaseum, a wonderful site of toppled statues, ancient ruins, and a still-functioning nileometer. I walked out onto the excavated foundation of something, just a scraped-out square of sand surrounded by what looked like the remains of a low wall. I stood in the center, feeling the heat of the blazing sun, throat dry and raw from the dust.<br />
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Suddenly, I felt cool water trickling over my feet. I actually jumped from the unexpected feeling. The water level didn't quite reach my ankles. Above me were banners of colored cloth, stretched across a pergola. There were also fluttering flags along the sides of the structure. The floor was at an incline, and a wide stream of water flowed from the elevated side down (using an Archimedes screw, although why would I know that then?) and people were seated in low chairs and benches, talking and enjoying the feel of the cool water. It was absolutely the most refreshing thing I have ever felt. Then, it just went away. I was back in the unshaded sun, and I was actually a little emotional because the moment was gone.<br />
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I did contact a couple of American Egyptologists, hoping to find one who was familiar with the Ramaseum. No one ever answered me back, so I just shut down and gave up.Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-82921577811446210432018-08-21T04:28:00.000-07:002018-08-21T04:40:04.570-07:00Road Trip to a Time Slip<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">
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<span style="color: #373435;">Sometime around 1974, I was driving from Madison, Wisconsin, to Bayfield, Wisconsin, a distance of something more than 300 miles and a six- or seven-hour drive. As is my habit even today whenever I can do so, I kept off the primary highways in favor of county roads. I had made the same trip several times before, and I had a consistent route: this far north on </span><span style="color: #373435;"><i>this</i></span><span style="color: #373435;"> road, then west a few miles on </span><span style="color: #373435;"><i>that</i></span><span style="color: #373435;"> road, the north again on </span><span style="color: #373435;"><i>another</i></span><span style="color: #373435;"> road, then…. You get the point.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #373435;">Because I had made the trip before, I knew three things: which roads I was going to take, how long it would take to get from one to the other, and the total time for my trip. On this day, however, my best-laid plan went all catty-wampus. At some time during my trip I suddenly found I was on a northbound road I had not intended to take, a road I had never taken and would not have taken under any circumstances. I also found that I had “lost” something more than an hour. That is, given the amount of time that had passed, I should have been an hour farther north than I was.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #373435;">Sounds almost like an alien abduction, doesn’t it? But I don’t have any mysterious implants in my body, and I don’t remember (poor me!) having had a sexual encounter with a comely alien female.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #373435;">It does sound a lot like an episode of “highway hypnosis,” but for several reasons I don’t think it was highway hypnosis. With highway hypnosis you do lose a sense of time passing, but in this case the amount of time exceeds typical highway-hypnosis loss of time; I was not on a road with which I was familiar; I did not remember driving during that loss of time; during the time lost, I did not have peripheral knowledge of anything that was going on around me–</span><span style="color: #373435;"><i>I was not aware of anything.</i></span><span style="color: #373435;"> Furthermore, when you’re driving the back roads of Wisconsin, you must stay alert because you never know when you’ll top a rise and be faced with a slow-moving tractor pulling a manure spreader. If you’re not paying attention in that situation, you’ll soon literally be in the shit.</span></div>
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Charles Wesley Orton</div>
Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-47606335488136835642018-08-13T16:43:00.000-07:002018-08-13T16:45:55.675-07:00Ancestral Memory?<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #4b4f56; font-family: , , , ".sfnstext-regular" , sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;">We were en route to Israel and were in a small cathedral in Austria. Jon McCallum was directing the singing. It was beautiful. I looked up and saw small balconies surrounding the second floor. I had a flashback of myself standing on the middle balcony dressed in clothing of what I would call the Renaissance Period. ([I was]more than likely a servant) LOL! Seriously, it was heart stopping. I never believed in reincarnation but it opened my mind to the possibility of maybe it being one of my female ancestors I was having a connection to at the time. Just something to ponder. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Submitted by Peggy Brown</span>Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-3503079560913962802018-08-13T15:12:00.002-07:002018-08-14T16:15:06.621-07:00The closest thing to a time slip I've experiencedI'm one of those people who <i>thinks</i> I want to experience the paranormal, but would probably go into panic mode if anything significant actually occurred. I jump out of my skin if a real person speaks when I think I'm alone in a room, so it's somewhat laughable to think I'd appreciate a ghost sighting. (Except I swear I would...)<br />
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I had a small taste of how I'd probably react to a time slip. It was my senior year of college and I lay down for a nap one afternoon. As I entered sleep, I began to feel a spinning sensation. (I had not been drinking :-D). Then I was dreaming. The dream began with me floating through the air and into my early childhood bedroom on Hurricane Creek Road in West Virginia. A Rod Serling-type voice was narrating, "Sometimes, when we dream, we go back in time." (Pretty hokey, but I've had credits scroll up at the end of a dream, so...) I floated down until I was sitting on my carpet. The carpet and decor were yellow, as they had been in my earlier childhood before we had redecorated. I only took vague notice of this, because I was instantly panicked. All I could think was that I was <i>stuck</i> in the past. I scrambled to my feet and raced to open my door. I ran through the hallway to my parents' room. Even in my panic, I noticed with some surprise that the hallway had the earth tones that were also from my early childhood before we had redecorated. (I'm not sure I could have even told you what color they were until that dream reminded me.) </div>
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I rushed into my parents' room. My dad was sleeping, his face to the wall as he most often did. My mom was sitting up and I believe she was sewing/mending something. I ran to her, still panicked, and threw my arms around her. "Mom, you've got to pray for me - I'm stuck in a --" I started to say "dream" - which indicates I was realizing that this was a dream - but I stopped, worried that I would scare her. She was watching me with alarm, and I struggled with how to approach the issue. I looked out the window of the balcony to the backyard, still thinking. Finally, I asked, "Are we on Hurricane Creek?" Logic clearly failed me here, as it does in dreams, because asking my mom if we were on the street where we clearly were could be no less alarming than asking what year it was. "Yes," Mom answered, still watching me in concern. </div>
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Then I remembered that I always pray to get out of terrifying dreams, but it hadn't occurred to me. I said, "Jesus, help me to wake up." Immediately, my eyes flew open and I was back in my own time (or, awake).<br />
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I had an immense sense of relief, and now that I knew it had just been a dream, I decided to go back to sleep and finish my nap. I closed my eyes, and within a few minutes that spinning sensation started back up. It freaked me out so much that I decided not to nap after all, and I got up.<br />
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If anyone had told me that I would react in such a way to being sent back to my early childhood, I wouldn't have believed them. I would have thought that I'd enjoy exploring my old house again, seeing my parents, venturing into the wooded foothills and creeks with my friends. But in that moment that I settled onto my yellow carpet, I felt only panic. I knew I was in the past and I was afraid I was stuck.<br />
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So when I consider people who have been wide awake and found themselves displaced in time - and realized that is what was happening - I can't imagine they would enjoy the experience.<br />
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Naomi West</div>
Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-74303608686089716242018-07-19T17:00:00.002-07:002018-08-13T16:47:19.609-07:00Several Awesome Time Slip Stories!A women hears time replaying in the baby monitor, a man encounters old-world child paupers, and more... Don't miss these!<br />
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<a href="https://www.thoughtco.com/time-dimension-travel-missing-time-stories-2596697">https://www.thoughtco.com/time-dimension-travel-missing-time-stories-2596697</a>Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-41795920463005458852018-07-04T08:00:00.000-07:002018-08-13T16:47:34.420-07:00Time Slip Article by Jason Offutt Here are a couple cool stories from Jason Offutt. I particularly like the last one, where the narrator actually encountered an apparent time-slipper, rather than being one himself.<br />
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<a href="http://mysteriousuniverse.org/2012/11/cases-of-time-slips/">http://mysteriousuniverse.org/2012/11/cases-of-time-slips/</a><br />
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<br />Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-13873311366209167142017-06-18T18:36:00.003-07:002018-08-13T16:47:57.341-07:00At-HomeTime LoopThis amazing story is from an anonymous poster:<br />
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Just want to tell you what happened to me in 1999.</div>
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It was quick but wicked nonetheless...</div>
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I was propped up with my back against the headboard of my bed. I was watching a movie waiting for dinner. My wife was sitting at the computer to the left of the TV, her back to me. My 12 year old son walked in and stood directly in front of the TV (blocking my view) and proceeded to ask his mom a question. She turned around for a moment and answered his question, so he left the room. At the moment he left the room (turned right and out of sight), he walked back in. I sat there watching the entire identical thing happen again. Absolutely word for word, motion for motion. I do remember (purposely) my state of mind at the time. It was after a long day of work. I was very relaxed and nothing on my mind. Just chillin and watching an old black and white Western. And BAM! Crazy time slip.</div>
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I knew what had just happened but I couldn't even tell my wife at that moment. She would have thought I was crazy.</div>
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Anyway, it never happened to me again as far as I know. Just thought I'd share.</div>
Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-78509474068708956592016-10-08T10:02:00.001-07:002018-08-13T16:19:17.447-07:00Time rewinds 1 hour and 10 minutes<div class="th" id="cvcmsg_157a0ba422c93957" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-left-radius: 3px; border-bottom-right-radius: 3px; border-top-left-radius: 3px; border-top-right-radius: 3px; margin-bottom: 11px; transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px);">
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This was an anonymous submission. I would be interested to know if anyone else has had a similar experience. </div>
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First of all, I would prefer to stay anonymous. Second of all, I am not entirely sure if this counts as a time slip or not. I woke up at 3 in the morning, I simply needed to go to the bathroom. I went back to bed, and the next time I woke up it was about 1:50 in the morning. The only thing I can remember unusual is that I woke up saying something about diesel fuel or something like that. </div>
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Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-88272012836735995352015-05-30T12:00:00.000-07:002018-08-13T16:48:34.210-07:003 Experiences - Anonymous Submission <div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
The following stories are from a reader who wishes to remain anonymous: </div>
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1) <span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">I returned from a two day trip out of town to find all the lights in my house were off. This was unusual because I normally leave a light on for myself, but thinking I must have forgotten this time, I proceeded to unlock the door and enter my house. I did not notice the door had been pried open, because the porch light was off and the door was shut completely. When I got inside and flipped on the light, I found that my ex-boyfriend from two years prior had broken into my house. His eyes were glassy and his pupils were tiny where he hid by the door waiting for me in the dark. He lept up from where he had crouched by the door when I turned on the light, and nose to nose with me demanded, "Give me the money that you owe me." It was clear to me that he was on drugs. I replied, "I don't owe you any money! You owe me money!" He attacked me, first punching me in the mouth, then tackling me to the ground he began strangling me. He said, "Do you realize that I could kill you right here and no one would hear your screams?" I was crying and pleading with him to let me up, I would give him some money. Suddenly, as I struggled to breath, a feeling of deja vu swept over me. I could clearly see another reality where he kept me by the throat and shook me, banging my head into the floor as my body went limp. I could see that reality as if from above. I was also presented with the way to prevent it - to fight him. So, I grabbed his testicles in my fist and twisted them, and bit his thigh hard enough to pull the skin and draw blood. He begged me to let go of him and fled out the back door, after which I ran to the neighbor's house and they called the police. My strategy in mind up until the deja vu feeling was to plead with him and appeal to him. In that moment it was shown to me he was drug-crazed and it did not matter how much money I would have given him. I mention this incident because, especially due to the strangulation, the psychological explanation for time slips surely carries a lot of water for this one. I consider this one a "sideways" time slip. However, I have several more, two more of which I will describe.</span></div>
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2) I was driving down a steep, mountainous stretch of interstate. I was happily jamming to my favorite music, the sky was blue and cloudless, the road stretched long and winding ahead of me. I saw an older model grey pickup truck speed past me and tear into the guard rail, hitting it to bounce off and spin back into the road. There was nothing I could do. I slammed my brakes, but my car t-boned the pickup truck, and I looked down after the car came to a stop at the deployed airbag and my seatbelt. I could see blood covering my chest, but I wasn't sure where it came from. I wondered if the driver of the pickup truck was ok, and looked up. I could see through blood in my eyelashes. I couldn't see the driver, but I could see the crushed pickup truck and a small child in a carseat in the extended cab. The child made direct eye contact with me, and I began to panic that the child's parent was seriously hurt, and trying to move out of my seat. Both vehicles were still in the middle of the road, and I was panicking and struggling to get to the child because I was afraid someone would come along and hit us. I never made it out of the car, though. Suddenly, I was driving down the same stretch of interstate, on the gorgeous cloudless day, and the song that was playing was one that had been playing several minutes before the accident. I clearly remembered what had happened (or would happen?) and I knew that if I switched to the far left lane, when the truck zipped past me on the right and spun, I would not hit it. I moved to the far left lane and a few minutes passed without anything happening, so I chalked it up to me being crazy. Suddenly, the older model grey truck zipped past and hit the guard rail, spinning out into the road. In the far left lane, I went past where the truck spun into the road. I slammed my brakes as I passed and pulled onto the shoulder. The truck, which had been sideways in the road, pulled onto the shoulder. The driver was fine, but he was calling the police since he hit the guardrail. He was on the shoulder, and he and the child were out of danger, so I continued down the road. Unlike the first incident I wrote about, when this incident happened there was no psychological trigger explanation because I was in no immediate danger, just enjoying a drive on a sunny day. I consider it a forward time slip and subsequent backwards time slip. However, sometimes the time slips happen when there is no danger at all, such as my third story.</div>
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3) It was another beautiful day and I was on my front porch playing Canasta on my phone. I was curled up in a wicker chair and pretty happy to be wasting a little bit of time doing something quick and fun on my day off. A hand of cards was dealt, and I was playing the hand when the deja vu feeling came over me. I had already planned how to meld and which cards to discard when suddenly the cards before me were a completely different hand. I checked the score and it was much higher, in my team's favor. I checked the time on my phone, and it was several minutes past the time when I was playing the hand I had planned out. I looked at the chat messages for the game, and there were no chat messages for that missing time, which was unusual because all the players had been chatting with each other. I consider it a forward slip, and thought about asking the other players if they were also missing several minutes. I decided not to say anything, though, just in case they might think I was crazy. Our in-game chat conversation continued as normal with just that unexplained several minute break in the conversation. Excluding the fact that there were multiple people involved, this time slip would fit the dementia explanation of losing time. However, it seems to me that all four of us lost several minutes as evidenced by the several minute break in conversation in the chat log, with chat resuming as if no time had been lost.</div>
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Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-23010157343480149712015-02-13T11:09:00.003-08:002018-08-14T16:27:21.580-07:00A Lady Who Experienced Two Simultaneous Realities<div>
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Jack from Wellington submitted this story:</div>
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There was one [incident] that I recall that happened to a
friend of a very close friend of mine, which resembles the parallel universe
story above.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This lady and her stepdaughter were crossing a busy street
with many lanes, and as they entered the final lane before reaching the other
side, they realized they were going to be struck by a car. But instead of the
car hitting them, they both wound up automatically on the other side of the
road.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then they appeared to have “hallucinated”, seeing themselves
as though the vehicle had struck them. She can even describe the interior of
the ambulance that she was transported in, and apparently later died in, even
though she has never been in an ambulance before.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Both experienced
this. She says she wakes up every day unsure if she’s living in a dream.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As I heard this story 15 years ago, it will not be 100 percent accurate. And it apparently happened another 20 years before I first heard
it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m usually a little skeptical but this has come from
someone who is not an attention-seeker…<o:p></o:p></div>
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Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-37759320998281353312014-11-21T07:21:00.000-08:002018-08-14T16:23:48.443-07:00Experiences of The Rising Family<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thanks to Kahren for these stories, the first two in memory of her parents, Ron and Doris Rising:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Experiences of Ron and Doris:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My mother Doris had several strange experiences. I'm not sure what order they occurred in, and Mum was born in 1922 so they were all a long time ago. Both my parents were skeptics, although my father Ron was always curious about unexplained things. Mum on the other hand, preferred to ignore things she couldn't explain. I'm telling you this as a way to explain that neither of them were the types to imagine things. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My mother's 'displacement' experience happened as she was traveling on the top deck of a double-decker bus in London in around the 1950s, which is where all the experiences happened. (We are Swedish, but lived in London). As she was sitting there, she became aware of suddenly being out in the open, and she looked around to see that she was on the top deck of an 1800s horse-drawn double-decker omnibus. She said she froze in shock. The streets and everything around her had changed to what looked like early pre-Victorian times, and everyone was dressed in long dresses and frock coats. She panicked and tried to speak the the other women sitting up there with her, but she said they didn't answer her and she wasn't sure if they could see her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />It only lasted a few minutes, and then she was back where she belonged. She had never heard of anything like that, and in fact none of us had, until I decided to do a search on it the other night. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Mum was wide awake and alert, and definitely not given to flights of fancy. She only told a couple of people; naturally Dad was one, and then me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Another unsettling experience happened when she was volunteering to help a friend pack up the friend's recently deceased aunt's house. This experience was one that Dad had told my brother and I about many times, and we always bugged Mum to recount the story - but she only told us once. We always called it Mum's ghost story, but now that I read more accounts of 'time slips' I really think it may have been one of those. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She was in a group of friends and they had been sorting and packing this lady's house up to help the family as they were grieving quite badly. They were in the front rooms (the lounge or parlour) and had had a morning tea break earlier, when they stopped for lunch. They all went into the kitchen, which was at the back of the house, and Mum went back to get her cup and saucer which she had left in the front room. As she picked it up, an old lady came in and stared at her. Mum assumed it was another volunteer, so she said hello, and explained that they had been packing all morning and were having lunch in the kitchen. She asked the lady to come and join them. The woman didn't respond, so Mum went closer and asked if she was alright but the lady still didn't respond. She just kept looking at Mum. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Mum excused herself and went back down to the kitchen and told the others that there was a lady who didn't look well in the front room. She explained what had happened, so the group of them all went to see if they could help the lady, who of course, was not there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Mum described her, and the lady they were helping left the room and came back with a photograph of a group of women and asked if the old lady was one of them. Mum identified the dead aunt. I think this was the first time she had had one of her experiences. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now I wonder if she had flipped back to a time when the lady would have come into the room during her life, and that is why she couldn't communicate with Mum, rather than actually being a ghost. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Another experience was brief, Mum was at a party and she went outside to get some air and saw a man standing under a tree. Thinking she knew him, she walked to him to greet him, but he disappeared when she got closer. She ran back inside. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The other experience involved both Mum and Dad. They had gone for a day trip with a group of friends to visit a stately home in the country that was open to the public. Dad was a commercial artist, and was always taking photos for reference for jobs, so he took lots of the home and the parklands around it. In one of the photos, there was a long tree-lined driveway that curved off in the distance, so you couldn't see the house or any of the buildings. It was autumn, and so there were leaves all over the ground and it was a beautiful photo. Dad asked everyone to move out of the shot, so he could just get the driveway and the trees, but when he developed it, there was a woman in Victorian dress standing right in the middle of the drive - staring straight into the camera. Dad printed several copies and took them around to everyone who had gone with them on the day, and they were all amazed. It became quite the tale to tell, and to then pull out the photo. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Over time, the woman's image faded off the photo and I must admit that I was quite glad it was gone by the time I was born. We still have the photos taken that day, but they are at my mother's house... If things get sorted out and I can get copies of the photo at any time, I will scan it and email it, although as I said, the woman is no longer there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />These are true accounts of things my mother grudgingly told us, and she was a very morally upright person who wouldn't lie even under pressing circumstances. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Kahren's own experience:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have a strange story myself...I was in a very violent relationship for five years in the early eighties, a few years after my father had suddenly died. I had been very viciously bashed one night, and the monster was frightened I might die so he took me to hospital. I had my face stitched up and my head injuries treated, and the monster brought me home in the early hours of the morning. When we walked into the flat, it was full of a thick aromatic fog. I realised straight away that it was my dad's pipe tobacco, a very aromatic one called Balkan Sobranie. The monster ran through the flat opening windows and looking for the source of the smoke, while I just stood there feeling very weird and very safe. When the monster came back to where I was standing, I just looked at him and said, "That's my dad's pipe tobacco." As I said it, the fog vanished. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />He was so freaked out, I didn't get a beating for about six months. I can't explain what happened. I am not really a 'ghosty story' person. The only ones I have ever believed were Mum's, but that's because I never knew her to lie, and she never sensationalised anything.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />This is the first time I have told all these accounts, since I told my children years ago but as I said, I don't want my parent's lives to vanish into nothing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ron and Doris Rising</span></div>
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Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-57227084515324667532014-11-21T06:24:00.001-08:002018-08-13T16:49:23.317-07:00Josie - Repeated Time at GoodwillThis experience happened on 11/20/2014: Josie (yes, again) was at the Goodwill store with her mom. She was in the checkout line, and the lady in front of her turned around and asked something about some items with white tickets. The lady behind Josie answered the question, pointed to some racks, and the first lady asked if Josie would hold her spot while she went to those racks to browse some more. Josie agreed.<br />
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In the meantime, Josie's mom joined her in the line. The lady behind her made a phone call, which suddenly dropped, and both Josie and the lady had a conversation about the poor reception in the store.</div>
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Shortly afterward, the first lady came back and took her place again. A bit later, she turned around and asked the very same question she had asked before. Now, because Josie has had this sort of thing happen so frequently, she tends to "steamroll," as she calls it, just plow on through and pretend it's not happening. So Josie answered the question that the lady behind her had given earlier, and, again, the lady in front of her asked if Josie would hold her spot. </div>
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Josie agreed, and her Mom walked up again. (I need to get the details - did her Mom suddenly disappear and Josie didn't notice or had she just walked away?) </div>
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The lady behind Josie was now freaking out; she had witnessed the repeated event too. Josie kept trying to calm her down, telling her everything was OK and it would return to normal now (speaking from experience). </div>
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I can't imagine how the lady must have felt. She must have wondered if Josie was some otherworldy being who had orchestrated it somehow, rather than someone who had this sort of thing happen to her so often she tries to ignore it.</div>
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Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-54019525583513862302014-10-22T13:12:00.001-07:002018-08-13T16:49:34.787-07:00Recent time slip in Essex<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
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The following account was submitted by Belle from Essex:</div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
I was driving at the time (I know ... a little scary). It was a route that I have driven many, many times and I know the route very well. It is a straight road that leads to a small town near where I live. The road is a two-way road with fields either side, trees lining the road and a crematorium and some houses just before the road bends around. For a very short period of time (only minutes, if not seconds), I suddenly saw the road in a completely different light - the road was a dirt track, no tarmac, no pavements, the trees were still there, but they were a lot, lot shorter/smaller and the crematorium was gone as were the houses - it all looked very rural. As you can imagine, I was pretty taken aback and wondered what had just happened to me. It was all over so quick and I was back driving the tarmac road again. Very strange. I don't recall feeling like I was driving over rough terrain, in fact, nothing actual 'felt' different at all, it was all just visual. I have driven that route many times again since and it has never happened again.<br />
I was alone in the car and so have no one to validate my experience, sadly. So, it could be I just went a little crazy for a few minutes.</blockquote>
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Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-51984276361807008482014-02-17T08:51:00.001-08:002018-08-13T16:49:44.484-07:00Proofing an essay before it was written / A pregnancy announcement twice in a row<div class="gmail_default" style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: small;">
These two stories have, yet again, happened to my friend <span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;">Josie</span>. </div>
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1st story: A couple weeks ago, <span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;">Josie</span> received an email from a friend along with an attachment of an essay. This friend wanted <span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;">Josie</span> to read the essay before the friend submitted it to the professor. <span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;">Josie</span> was discussing the essay with the friends currently around her at the time. She read through it, said (aloud) that it was fine, and that although the conclusion seemed rushed, she thought her friend could hand it in and get a decent grade. </div>
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A while after this happened, the writer of the essay arrived on the scene. She mentioned that she needed to finish her essay so she could send it to <span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;">Josie</span> to proofread. <span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;">Josie</span> informed her she had already read it. Her friend said she hadn't even finished writing it, let alone sent it. When <span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;">Josie</span> now looked on her phone for the essay, there was nothing. As you can see, <span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;">Josie</span> had witnesses for this event.</div>
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2nd story: <span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;">Josie</span> was eating last night for her birthday dinner. One of the members of the party stood and announced that she was pregnant. Everyone congratulated her, etc, and then <span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;">Josie</span> went to the bathroom. When <span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;">Josie</span> returned, she was taking a sip of her drink (something she had been doing when the friend announced the pregnancy), and this same friend stood up. The whole thing happened again -- she announced she was pregnant, everyone congratulated her, etc. <span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: small;">Josie</span> said nothing this time - she just went along with it. She is just really mystified about what is happening.</div>
Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5323660146382799723.post-25874497444570057112013-08-17T16:19:00.001-07:002018-08-13T16:50:22.855-07:00Time slips from Kent<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><a href="http://web.archive.org/web/20071007052922/http://www.historic-kent.co.uk/haunt13.html">http://web.archive.org/web/20071007052922/http://www.historic-kent.co.uk/haunt13.html</a></span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>Naomihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14701312800397865903noreply@blogger.com2