Most of human life is spent trying to understand why things are the way they are. But even after thousands of years of existence, we still don’t have all the answers. This becomes especially obvious when we encounter something in our personal lives that we can’t find an explanation for, like eerie coincidences, déjà vus, or vivid dreams.
We found many other similar experiences people shared under this popular thread, which we compiled in the list below for you to enjoy. It’s all just a scroll away!
#1
So I've lurked on reddit for the memes for 5 years, and this is the first post that made me need to sign up, because I have a story to tell.
Growing up, I had an acquaintance we'll call 'M'. We went to the same church, the same school, but I was two years older than M, and when you're five, that's a world of difference. I was aware of M's existence, the same way I was aware of the sun. You know it's warm, but you don't really look at it. So I happily passed through high school without thinking much of M as a person of interest in my life.
But then I was twenty-eight, having gone to college, and loved, and worked just like everyone else..until I had a dream.
I was sitting on a bus next to a woman. She was older then I remembered, her dark hair streaked with grey and shorter than it had been when I last saw her. It must've have been twenty years since I'd seen M's mother, but it was her, wearing a pair of dark slacks and a crimson sweater with a button fixed to one shoulder.
The bus was old, and smelled odd, it's vinyl seats creaking when it stuttered and screeched to a halt on the side of the road.
In my dream, I stood up, but someone on the other side of M's mother made to stand too...and it was M' herself. I took her hand, and we walked off the bus. Turning around, I saw M's mother give a shallow wave as the doors hissed closed and the bus roared away from the curb and motored down the street.
I blinked awake and it was around 6.30 am, I couldn't go back to sleep, because the dream was so vivid.
After a shower and a coffee, I picked up my phone and checked my social media.
A friend of a friend of a friend had posted that M's mother had died that morning, after an elective surgery gone wrong, that lasted most of the night.
Maybe it could have been coincidence, or deja vu, what ever mental exercise my mind needed to go through that morning, maybe something had triggered it in those days leading up to it. I don't know what it was, but it f****d me up that morning. I couldn't even send my condolences the same way all the friends of friends had done.
I honestly just wanted to ignore it happened at all.
Then, two days later, I was filling up my gas tank at pump number seven, and I saw her, at pump number three. M, come home to take care of her mother's affairs.
She was wearing a pair of black jeans, paired with a deep red sweater, and an ivory colored button holding the sides of one shoulder together.
It's honestly hard to explain what happened next. The awkward hello's that led to long coffee dates. M moving home from the big city, and moving into her mothers house. The first time I held her hand, and it felt just like in the dream.
We married two years later, and I never told her about what I saw on the bus. I didn't want to sound crazy. Honestly for a long time I forgot about it, until we got a cat.
The cat had a habit of staring long, for like hours, at one corner, every night.
"Maybe he sees a ghost." I said idly. And then we had a long conversation, about the possibility of ghosts or spirits or whatever.
I thought a lot about her mother.
"Can I tell you something strange?" M said, "The night my mother died, I had a dream, and you were holding my hand."
You don't have to believe that this actually happened to me, I'll believe for you, because it happened to me. There are things that I can't explain in this life. But I know that the night I dreamed of my future mother in law (deceased) on a bus, shot my life in a direction I never knew existed. And I'm so f*****g grateful it happened.
Growing up, I had an acquaintance we'll call 'M'. We went to the same church, the same school, but I was two years older than M, and when you're five, that's a world of difference. I was aware of M's existence, the same way I was aware of the sun. You know it's warm, but you don't really look at it. So I happily passed through high school without thinking much of M as a person of interest in my life.
But then I was twenty-eight, having gone to college, and loved, and worked just like everyone else..until I had a dream.
I was sitting on a bus next to a woman. She was older then I remembered, her dark hair streaked with grey and shorter than it had been when I last saw her. It must've have been twenty years since I'd seen M's mother, but it was her, wearing a pair of dark slacks and a crimson sweater with a button fixed to one shoulder.
The bus was old, and smelled odd, it's vinyl seats creaking when it stuttered and screeched to a halt on the side of the road.
In my dream, I stood up, but someone on the other side of M's mother made to stand too...and it was M' herself. I took her hand, and we walked off the bus. Turning around, I saw M's mother give a shallow wave as the doors hissed closed and the bus roared away from the curb and motored down the street.
I blinked awake and it was around 6.30 am, I couldn't go back to sleep, because the dream was so vivid.
After a shower and a coffee, I picked up my phone and checked my social media.
A friend of a friend of a friend had posted that M's mother had died that morning, after an elective surgery gone wrong, that lasted most of the night.
Maybe it could have been coincidence, or deja vu, what ever mental exercise my mind needed to go through that morning, maybe something had triggered it in those days leading up to it. I don't know what it was, but it f****d me up that morning. I couldn't even send my condolences the same way all the friends of friends had done.
I honestly just wanted to ignore it happened at all.
Then, two days later, I was filling up my gas tank at pump number seven, and I saw her, at pump number three. M, come home to take care of her mother's affairs.
She was wearing a pair of black jeans, paired with a deep red sweater, and an ivory colored button holding the sides of one shoulder together.
It's honestly hard to explain what happened next. The awkward hello's that led to long coffee dates. M moving home from the big city, and moving into her mothers house. The first time I held her hand, and it felt just like in the dream.
We married two years later, and I never told her about what I saw on the bus. I didn't want to sound crazy. Honestly for a long time I forgot about it, until we got a cat.
The cat had a habit of staring long, for like hours, at one corner, every night.
"Maybe he sees a ghost." I said idly. And then we had a long conversation, about the possibility of ghosts or spirits or whatever.
I thought a lot about her mother.
"Can I tell you something strange?" M said, "The night my mother died, I had a dream, and you were holding my hand."
You don't have to believe that this actually happened to me, I'll believe for you, because it happened to me. There are things that I can't explain in this life. But I know that the night I dreamed of my future mother in law (deceased) on a bus, shot my life in a direction I never knew existed. And I'm so f*****g grateful it happened.
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75points
#2
Less crazy than the other stories on this thread but one time I was at the servo filling my car up at night time and there was a hospital across the road. a man with no shirt on wearing proper suit pants and formal leather shoes ran from the dark across the road into the servo. he was in there for 5 minutes then sprinted back into the dark. i walk in to pay for my petrol and the guy serving tells me that the random guy in the suit pants payed for my $50 tank of petrol ... i had so many questions.
37points
#3
I think I've shared this before but here we go:
As a kid, I had an imaginary friend who I would play with a lot. I had few "real" friends but I was also more of an outcast in daycare and kindergarten so sometimes, that imaginary friend was all I had.
My mother said I'd always describe him as very similar looking. When I was around pre-school age, my mother said we needed to talk about my friend and I said that I'm fine with keeping Joshua around because I was scared of starting school alone. Her face just froze in shock and she never brought it up again. I didn't realize why until my grandma explained years later that I had a twin brother who didn't make it and my parents were planning on naming him Joshua.
The only logical explanation I have is that I picked it up when I was very little but my grandma said that my parents literally never talked about it because they didn't cope well with the loss at all. It's still very strange.
As a kid, I had an imaginary friend who I would play with a lot. I had few "real" friends but I was also more of an outcast in daycare and kindergarten so sometimes, that imaginary friend was all I had.
My mother said I'd always describe him as very similar looking. When I was around pre-school age, my mother said we needed to talk about my friend and I said that I'm fine with keeping Joshua around because I was scared of starting school alone. Her face just froze in shock and she never brought it up again. I didn't realize why until my grandma explained years later that I had a twin brother who didn't make it and my parents were planning on naming him Joshua.
The only logical explanation I have is that I picked it up when I was very little but my grandma said that my parents literally never talked about it because they didn't cope well with the loss at all. It's still very strange.
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35points
#4
This was about 6 years ago, I was in high school and just walking from the cafeteria to the library on my spare. I came across one of my little sisters friends on the way.
We've only spoken a handful of times, and we were never really close, but I felt compelled to stop in front of her and ask if she needed a hug. She broke down sobbing and clung to me as I hugged her. Turns out it was the anniversary of her close friend's death, and her friend always knew when she was sad and would ask if she wanted a hug.
I still have no idea what compelled me to go up to her and do that on that day. But I'm glad I was able to do that for her.
We've only spoken a handful of times, and we were never really close, but I felt compelled to stop in front of her and ask if she needed a hug. She broke down sobbing and clung to me as I hugged her. Turns out it was the anniversary of her close friend's death, and her friend always knew when she was sad and would ask if she wanted a hug.
I still have no idea what compelled me to go up to her and do that on that day. But I'm glad I was able to do that for her.
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35points
#5
When my grandmother passed away, my brother was living out of state, so my parents and I cleaned out the house and I moved in. We found a suitcase that my dad thought had the last of my grandfather's clothes.
My grandfather died a few years before my brother and I were born, but I've always felt a strong connection to him, so I was really curious to see inside the suitcase. How big was my grandfather? What did he smell like?
Unfortunately, the suitcase was locked. Dad said he'd look for the key, but really, we stuffed it under the bed and forgot about it.
A couple of years go by, and I stumble across the suitcase again. Dad hadn't found the key, but my brother has been learning a bit about locksmithing. I text him and ask if he would be interested in trying to open the suitcase. I'm still curious about what's inside.
The suitcase was locked. I tried to open it multiple times, multiple ways. Couldn't get the thing open. I took it over to my parents for my brother to try to open on his next visit.
My dad and I were standing outside talking when my dad falls silent, in awe. My brother was standing in the driveway, wearing my grandfather's clothes. They fit him perfectly, except for being an inch too long in the hem.
"Oh, wow! How'd you get the suitcase open?" I asked.
"It wasn't locked," he said. "It opened right up. Isn't this the coolest sweater?"
What can I say? Those clothes were meant to be his.
My grandfather died a few years before my brother and I were born, but I've always felt a strong connection to him, so I was really curious to see inside the suitcase. How big was my grandfather? What did he smell like?
Unfortunately, the suitcase was locked. Dad said he'd look for the key, but really, we stuffed it under the bed and forgot about it.
A couple of years go by, and I stumble across the suitcase again. Dad hadn't found the key, but my brother has been learning a bit about locksmithing. I text him and ask if he would be interested in trying to open the suitcase. I'm still curious about what's inside.
The suitcase was locked. I tried to open it multiple times, multiple ways. Couldn't get the thing open. I took it over to my parents for my brother to try to open on his next visit.
My dad and I were standing outside talking when my dad falls silent, in awe. My brother was standing in the driveway, wearing my grandfather's clothes. They fit him perfectly, except for being an inch too long in the hem.
"Oh, wow! How'd you get the suitcase open?" I asked.
"It wasn't locked," he said. "It opened right up. Isn't this the coolest sweater?"
What can I say? Those clothes were meant to be his.
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31points
#6
About 9 years ago, I was searching our file cabinet for a document I needed. I had piles of papers all over the bed, searched for an hour, meticulously. Could not find it. Suddenly, the tv across the room (which is NOT on) makes a clicking noise. I stop what I'm doing, look up and over at the tv. I see nothing out of the ordinary, so I turn back to the pile of papers....and the document I had been searching for is right on top, like it was placed there. I looked up, said thank you, and put away the papers I didn't need.
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29points
#7
I was stopped for the night at a truck stop in the desert, 60 miles east of El Paso,TX. This truck stop only has lights around the store and fuel pumps, the truck parking area is only lit by any headlights that are left on. I get to bed at about 2200 thinking it'll be a nice quiet night. At around 0230 I wake up to a tapping on my truck (like someone was trying to wake me up) . I ignore it and try to go back to sleep, but the tapping gets louder and louder and eventually turns into the sound similar to someone beating their hand on my door and cab. I get out of bed and open the curtains to the side i heard the sound coming from and there was nothing there. I open the curtains on the other side, and nothing there either. There was no trucks on either side of me. So I throw my shoes on, grab my machete and flashlight and go outside to see what the hell was going on. There was nothing, no foot prints, no paw prints, absolutely nothing there. I get back in my truck and turn in my side markers, so im somewhat illuminated. Close the doors, lock them, and run my seatbelts through the door handle and buckle them in, to add essentially another lock to both doors.
I go back to bed, and wake up at 0630. The sun is starting to come out, so i go inside for some coffee, and breakfast before heading out. Other truck drivers were in there, and experienced the same thing i did that night. With no answers as to what it was. I finish my breakfast and nope outta there.
I go back to bed, and wake up at 0630. The sun is starting to come out, so i go inside for some coffee, and breakfast before heading out. Other truck drivers were in there, and experienced the same thing i did that night. With no answers as to what it was. I finish my breakfast and nope outta there.
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23points
#8
A few weeks before my grandad died in April I started wearing 2 rings I had inherited from a family member on a chain around my neck. I've had them for years and always wear them when I feel like I need a bit of luck or support. Makes me feel as if someone is looking out for me even though I don't really believe in the afterlife or the supernatural. I knew he was sick so I'd not long started wearing them again, only I'd had to put them on a chain this time bc the uniform policy in work meant I couldn't wear them as I usually did on my finger. The clasp on the chain can be quite stiff to open, so I'd just throw it over my head with the rings attached bc it's long enough to not have to open, so the rings and the chain had been together for a few weeks at this point without me ever opening the clasp, bc there was no need.
So I was in work with another colleague about 2 feet away from me. I had the rings tucked well down my shirt (hanging right around heart level), my uniform zipped up over them, a plastic apron and my gloves on (I'm a nurse). I was busy doing something so my hands weren't anywhere near the rings, and I wasn't even thinking about them. There wasn't any way I could've touched them or got them caught on anything.
Then I felt something cold touch my stomach and the next thing I knew one of the rings had dropped onto the floor. I was confused at how it'd happened and thought maybe the chain had broken (even though it's quite sturdy) and didn't want to lose it, so I took my apron and gloves off and pulled the chain out of my shirt. The chain was intact and still clasped tightly together. And the other ring was still on it. So somehow, one ring had come cleanly off the chain without the other one falling off, and with the chain still clasped together.
My colleague was just staring at me, and I'm not really a believer in the supernatural, like I said, so I just joked saying "I hope that wasn't a sign or someone trying to tell me something!" and laughed it off. Not 5 mins later I got the call to say my grandad had deteriorated and I needed to come home. I left work that day to care for him and 2 weeks later he died.
I know there's got to be an explanation for it, but part of me doesn't want to know it bc the mystery makes me feel like maybe I was actually being looked out for. I wear the rings on my finger now bc I can't shake the feeling that there was something more to that little mystery than the logical side of my brain wants to believe.
So I was in work with another colleague about 2 feet away from me. I had the rings tucked well down my shirt (hanging right around heart level), my uniform zipped up over them, a plastic apron and my gloves on (I'm a nurse). I was busy doing something so my hands weren't anywhere near the rings, and I wasn't even thinking about them. There wasn't any way I could've touched them or got them caught on anything.
Then I felt something cold touch my stomach and the next thing I knew one of the rings had dropped onto the floor. I was confused at how it'd happened and thought maybe the chain had broken (even though it's quite sturdy) and didn't want to lose it, so I took my apron and gloves off and pulled the chain out of my shirt. The chain was intact and still clasped tightly together. And the other ring was still on it. So somehow, one ring had come cleanly off the chain without the other one falling off, and with the chain still clasped together.
My colleague was just staring at me, and I'm not really a believer in the supernatural, like I said, so I just joked saying "I hope that wasn't a sign or someone trying to tell me something!" and laughed it off. Not 5 mins later I got the call to say my grandad had deteriorated and I needed to come home. I left work that day to care for him and 2 weeks later he died.
I know there's got to be an explanation for it, but part of me doesn't want to know it bc the mystery makes me feel like maybe I was actually being looked out for. I wear the rings on my finger now bc I can't shake the feeling that there was something more to that little mystery than the logical side of my brain wants to believe.
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22points
#9
This was about 20 years ago. My teenage sister was talking to my mom and me in the living room one afternoon.
She gets a weird look on her face, stops mid sentence and says
"I have to answer the phone."
It wasn't ringing.
My family, like everyone, had a landline phone in the mid 90'S. It was wall mounted in the next room over, the kitchen.
As she walks toward the kitchen, the phone begins to ring.
"Hello? Yes, this is she." (She never talked like this).
"Yes. Yes. Okay. I will."
She hangs up the phone. No goodbye.
My mom and I are pretty unnerved at this point.
"Who was that?" We ask.
"Who was who?" She responds.
"On the phone!" We say.
"When was I on the phone?" She replies, thinking we're full of it.
She had (and still has) no recollection of what had just happened.
I think about it constantly, 20 years later.
She gets a weird look on her face, stops mid sentence and says
"I have to answer the phone."
It wasn't ringing.
My family, like everyone, had a landline phone in the mid 90'S. It was wall mounted in the next room over, the kitchen.
As she walks toward the kitchen, the phone begins to ring.
"Hello? Yes, this is she." (She never talked like this).
"Yes. Yes. Okay. I will."
She hangs up the phone. No goodbye.
My mom and I are pretty unnerved at this point.
"Who was that?" We ask.
"Who was who?" She responds.
"On the phone!" We say.
"When was I on the phone?" She replies, thinking we're full of it.
She had (and still has) no recollection of what had just happened.
I think about it constantly, 20 years later.
22points
#10
Recently, I was on the couch watching something and I heard a crash from my washer and dryer room. My cat also shot up and looked in the direction of the door. It sounded like a broom fell over, or maybe one of the plastic tubs. Freaked me out as I already don't really like that room in the first place, plus it was very late at night and I live alone. Also because of the pull string door that leads to the creepy attic. Decided I was not going to be like every idiot in a horror movie and investigate what the noise was. I literally sat there on my couch for hours. The next day, I decided I had enough courage to take a peak and literally saw nothing touched. Both brooms were still propped up against the wall. All the plastic tubs were sitting perfectly. I have no idea what that noise was and I don't really care to find out.
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21points
#11
I've posted this before and people seemed to like it so here we go:
The night my grandmother died, I heard voices coming from her room. The only people in the house were me, grandma and my mother. It was about 1 o'clock in the morning and I could hear my mother snoring in the other room, so I knew she wasn't in there talking to grandma and I would have recognized her voice if she was. These were voices I did not recognize, furthermore, one of them was distinctly male. I very clearly heard my grandmother say, "Oh, how have you been?" and the male voice responded too low for me to make out the words, but my grandma sounded SO HAPPY to be chatting with him. By this time, I had gotten up and had my hand on the doorknob, about to go into her room and investigate what the hell was up, when I heard a female voice (not my grandma) saying "it's time to go now." I heard that, and my whole body just froze. It's hard to explain, but I just had this terrible, frightful sensation that it would be very, very bad for me to open that door right then. Like walking in on your parents having s*x, only with some kind of terrifying ghost thrown in for extra horror. I just backed away very slowly and went into my mom's room instead. I felt so cold all over, like I had been standing outside in a snowstorm, so I got under the covers and just laid there until my mom woke up. Then I told her I thought grandma was dead. She was. I still miss her. Even though it was terrifying for me, hearing that exchange has made me less scared of dying. Grandma wasn't scared of the voices. She was happy. She wanted to go with them. I hope she comes for me when it's my time.
Some interesting additional information I found out after talking it over with my mom: When she found Gran's body, she was on the floor a few feet from her bed, on the left side of the room, away from the door. Gran had been bed-ridden for 2 months prior to this and the only thing in that corner of the room was this ancient suitcase that she had carried all her life, from Kansas to California to Oklahoma and back again. It had some sentimental items, mostly pictures and a pair of black satin gloves which I now own.
She had also somehow managed to put her shoes on! We can only guess she was getting herself ready to go on with her journey.
The day before, the hospice nurse had told my mom it would be coming soon, and this was good because she was in incredible pain from breast cancer and metastatic disease. My mom and I had tearfully sat down with Gran and told her it was okay for her to go, we loved her, etc. I promised her I'd take care of my mom and she went to sleep with us holding her hands. That was the last conversation we had with her.
The night my grandmother died, I heard voices coming from her room. The only people in the house were me, grandma and my mother. It was about 1 o'clock in the morning and I could hear my mother snoring in the other room, so I knew she wasn't in there talking to grandma and I would have recognized her voice if she was. These were voices I did not recognize, furthermore, one of them was distinctly male. I very clearly heard my grandmother say, "Oh, how have you been?" and the male voice responded too low for me to make out the words, but my grandma sounded SO HAPPY to be chatting with him. By this time, I had gotten up and had my hand on the doorknob, about to go into her room and investigate what the hell was up, when I heard a female voice (not my grandma) saying "it's time to go now." I heard that, and my whole body just froze. It's hard to explain, but I just had this terrible, frightful sensation that it would be very, very bad for me to open that door right then. Like walking in on your parents having s*x, only with some kind of terrifying ghost thrown in for extra horror. I just backed away very slowly and went into my mom's room instead. I felt so cold all over, like I had been standing outside in a snowstorm, so I got under the covers and just laid there until my mom woke up. Then I told her I thought grandma was dead. She was. I still miss her. Even though it was terrifying for me, hearing that exchange has made me less scared of dying. Grandma wasn't scared of the voices. She was happy. She wanted to go with them. I hope she comes for me when it's my time.
Some interesting additional information I found out after talking it over with my mom: When she found Gran's body, she was on the floor a few feet from her bed, on the left side of the room, away from the door. Gran had been bed-ridden for 2 months prior to this and the only thing in that corner of the room was this ancient suitcase that she had carried all her life, from Kansas to California to Oklahoma and back again. It had some sentimental items, mostly pictures and a pair of black satin gloves which I now own.
She had also somehow managed to put her shoes on! We can only guess she was getting herself ready to go on with her journey.
The day before, the hospice nurse had told my mom it would be coming soon, and this was good because she was in incredible pain from breast cancer and metastatic disease. My mom and I had tearfully sat down with Gran and told her it was okay for her to go, we loved her, etc. I promised her I'd take care of my mom and she went to sleep with us holding her hands. That was the last conversation we had with her.
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21points
#12
When I was 9 or 10, we had a big family reunion at my great aunt's big Victorian house that her family grew up in, which she inherited. I got bored though because there weren't other kids there my age, so I went exploring through the house and found a check writing machine in the upstairs office or library kind of room. I remember the machine was black and gold and had lots of little levers where you'd select the individual numbers then pull down on another lever to stamp the check. I'd put in pieces of paper that were on the desk and look at the numbers stamped on it.
I was playing with that when I very clearly heard another kid in the hallway say "you're not supposed to play with guns, Bill."
My name wasn't Bill, and I wasn't playing with guns. I remember saying "I'm not." Then some moments passed and I got curious about another kid maybe my age being there, so I hopped up and looked into the hallway to find him, but there was nobody there. And nobody around my age downstairs or outside where everybody else was either. I figured at the time it was maybe some neighbor kid who ran out.
I didn't really think about it again until I was 18 or 19 and my mother told me her father (Grandpa Bill, my great aunt's brother who grew up there too) had accidentally shot his friend in that house when he was a kid, when playing with his father's pistol. Then when I was in my 40's, I was driving my great Aunt somewhere (now in her 90's), and I asked where in the house Bill had that accident, and she said in that upstairs office.
I'm not religious, but that just seems too specific. Maybe it's a wild coincidence. I still can't explain it all these years later, and it's the only thing that keeps bugging me in my life.
I was playing with that when I very clearly heard another kid in the hallway say "you're not supposed to play with guns, Bill."
My name wasn't Bill, and I wasn't playing with guns. I remember saying "I'm not." Then some moments passed and I got curious about another kid maybe my age being there, so I hopped up and looked into the hallway to find him, but there was nobody there. And nobody around my age downstairs or outside where everybody else was either. I figured at the time it was maybe some neighbor kid who ran out.
I didn't really think about it again until I was 18 or 19 and my mother told me her father (Grandpa Bill, my great aunt's brother who grew up there too) had accidentally shot his friend in that house when he was a kid, when playing with his father's pistol. Then when I was in my 40's, I was driving my great Aunt somewhere (now in her 90's), and I asked where in the house Bill had that accident, and she said in that upstairs office.
I'm not religious, but that just seems too specific. Maybe it's a wild coincidence. I still can't explain it all these years later, and it's the only thing that keeps bugging me in my life.
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20points
#13
Many moons ago a friend and I were driving on the highway heading to do some shopping and get food. We ended up right behind this pickup truck that had a lot of loose lumber and construction material bouncing around in it. He and I turned and looked at each other and without saying a word he moved two lanes over and slowed down to get away from this death trap. About a minute later a large piece of wood comes tumbling out of the back of the truck and onto the highway. At the angle it came out it would have smashed right into our windshield. It bounced over the two lanes and we wound up running it over anyway. We pulled over and we're going through the whole "did we just almost die?" conversation when my phone rings. It's my wife.
"Are you guys ok? I was taking a nap and had a dream you were in a car accident"
"Are you guys ok? I was taking a nap and had a dream you were in a car accident"
19points
#14
My mother always told me to look for signs. She was very spiritual, not religious, but she did believe in angels and spirit guides and all that. I never believed in any of that stuff. But she would always tell me that all these entities from heaven would send you signs as long as you were looking for them. License plate numbers, radio stations, headlines on newspapers, and of course white feathers. She always told me ask my angels for guidance whenever I was having trouble and to look for white feathers.
Well i joined the military a few years ago and got shipped to boot camp. I was the underachiever of all my siblings, so It was the only thing worthwhile I had done with my life up until that point, I needed to make myself and my family proud, I had to prove that I could do it. I injured my hip during a training exercise near the end and was terrified of not being able to complete the training being sent back home a failure. We had a 20 mile ruck march and a grueling 5 days in the field coming up, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to make it with my bad hip. So, as a desperate reach, I asked my angels for guidance. And I kid you not, 2 minutes later I walk over to my bunk and what do I see laying there on my blanket but a little white feather. And I start seeing them everywhere. On the floor, on my uniform, on my gear, outside even. I dont know if its just that I didn't notice them all before, or maybe the pillows in the bays were getting beat up after being used for months, but i kept seeing them.
And I marched 20 miles, did those 5 days, and passed my final PT test with flying colors.
Well i joined the military a few years ago and got shipped to boot camp. I was the underachiever of all my siblings, so It was the only thing worthwhile I had done with my life up until that point, I needed to make myself and my family proud, I had to prove that I could do it. I injured my hip during a training exercise near the end and was terrified of not being able to complete the training being sent back home a failure. We had a 20 mile ruck march and a grueling 5 days in the field coming up, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to make it with my bad hip. So, as a desperate reach, I asked my angels for guidance. And I kid you not, 2 minutes later I walk over to my bunk and what do I see laying there on my blanket but a little white feather. And I start seeing them everywhere. On the floor, on my uniform, on my gear, outside even. I dont know if its just that I didn't notice them all before, or maybe the pillows in the bays were getting beat up after being used for months, but i kept seeing them.
And I marched 20 miles, did those 5 days, and passed my final PT test with flying colors.
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17points
#15
I climb up cell phone towers for a living. One time I was on top of a 350 ft tower, waiting for some test results.
I got hit in the face with a small object. It hit me hard enough to bruise my eye. No idea what it was or where it came from. Part of a plane? Giant bug? No idea.
I got hit in the face with a small object. It hit me hard enough to bruise my eye. No idea what it was or where it came from. Part of a plane? Giant bug? No idea.
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15points
#16
When I was a kid I had a lava lamp, when it was on it was getting really hot. Since it was yellow I was using it to drawing at night. So I was sitting there, drawing when all of the sudden the lamp turned itself off. I started panicking because I'm really afraid of the dark and I started calling my mum for help. She came into my room and when I explained the situation she said the lamp was never turned on, I was sitting in the dark all this time. I touched the lamp and it was cold...
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15points
#17
At a lunch table in high school I exasperatedly put my head down and had a thought in the form of a question. My best friend a few seats down responded to my question and everyone looked at her. I asked if I said it out loud and everyone agreed I had said nothing. It was weird. We've been friends since 7th grade, I was MOH at her wedding, and was in the room with her and her husband when she gave birth to her daughter. We still make jokes about that time she read my mind in high school lol.
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15points
#18
When I was around 8-9 years old, it was the first time my parents let me stay home alone since they were out doing something (dinner or something of that sort.) i can’t remember exactly. it was around 10:00-10:30 pm i would say, as it was very dark outside. I heard some weird scratching and whispering sounds coming from downstairs, (my room was on the top floor) and I was starting to get a little antsy. I opened my door and exited my room, the scratching was getting louder, and whispering was getting more intense. For whatever reason, just about every light in the house was turned off, so when I exited my room it was pretty much pitch black in the hallway, aside from the light coming from my room. I went out into the hallway and flipped the switch on, the light turned on, and the scratching and whispering noises suddenly just stopped all together. I looked down the stairs, and I see a hand and arm curve around the corner leading into the living room, and it started to make a sort of come hither motion with its finger. Keep in mind, this hand was incredibly disproportionate to what a normal human hand should look like. The fingers were way too long and the nails were massive. The entire situation was just wrong, and I was absolutely terrified. I just ran back into my room and hid in the closet for the next half hour until my parents got home. When they arrived they called me back down, and I was incredibly disturbed to find numerous tiny scratch marks etched into the ceiling and walls right beneath my room. I asked my parents if they had been home for a while, and of course they said that they hadn’t. I tried to explain what happened, but I doubt that they believed me at all. I still get a weird and deeply disturbed feeling when approaching stairs, which is an odd fear to say the least. This is easily the strangest thing I have ever experienced, and it still doesn’t make sense to me to think about now.
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13points
#19
I was laying in bed one morning, and I felt pure evil on the foot of my bed. I cant explain it, but it terrified and paralyzed me, making me like a deer in headlights. My heart dropped and I felt the need to escape.
It was early in the morning and my late husband was playing wow on the computer in the living room. After a few minutes, I mustered the energy to run OUT OF MY ROOM. I ran to my husband and grabbed him, sobbing about this thing.
Not even 30 seconds later we heard the smoke alarm go off and it smelt like sulfur and an electrical fire in the part of the room I felt that thing. Then, about a minute later, the smell passed. There was no fire, nothing amiss, and everything was fine. I didn't feel that THING anymore and it just went away.
I never felt anything like that before or since, and I had a witness so I know I didn't imagine the whole thing. I simply can't explain it.
It was early in the morning and my late husband was playing wow on the computer in the living room. After a few minutes, I mustered the energy to run OUT OF MY ROOM. I ran to my husband and grabbed him, sobbing about this thing.
Not even 30 seconds later we heard the smoke alarm go off and it smelt like sulfur and an electrical fire in the part of the room I felt that thing. Then, about a minute later, the smell passed. There was no fire, nothing amiss, and everything was fine. I didn't feel that THING anymore and it just went away.
I never felt anything like that before or since, and I had a witness so I know I didn't imagine the whole thing. I simply can't explain it.
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12points
#20
In my early twenties, I had a lot going on in my life. I had left school, had started a new career, was engaged to my high school sweetheart, and my anxiety was building up.
This was in the mid-80s, and I wore a watch. It was a gold Timex analog watch that my father gave to me. I always set the watch on my bedside table before going to sleep.
I was becoming very anxious about deadlines, and I found myself constantly checking my watch to make sure I didn't fall behind with anything.
One morning, I woke-up and reached to my bedside table, and my watch was missing. I checked around the table. I crawled over the edge on the bed and looked upside-down under the bed. No watch. I got up and looked around the base of the bedside table. No watch.
I showered, got dressed, checked my yesterday clothes' pockets. No watch. I checked in other parts of the house. No watch. I asked my fiancee about if she had seen it. She had not, and to this day I know she was telling the truth.
The strange thing is that this morning was the morning of my first day feeling like all anxiety was lifted from me. I felt 100% better about everything, and my stress level was even better than it had ever been.
I never, ever found the watch. (And I've never worn one since.).
This was in the mid-80s, and I wore a watch. It was a gold Timex analog watch that my father gave to me. I always set the watch on my bedside table before going to sleep.
I was becoming very anxious about deadlines, and I found myself constantly checking my watch to make sure I didn't fall behind with anything.
One morning, I woke-up and reached to my bedside table, and my watch was missing. I checked around the table. I crawled over the edge on the bed and looked upside-down under the bed. No watch. I got up and looked around the base of the bedside table. No watch.
I showered, got dressed, checked my yesterday clothes' pockets. No watch. I checked in other parts of the house. No watch. I asked my fiancee about if she had seen it. She had not, and to this day I know she was telling the truth.
The strange thing is that this morning was the morning of my first day feeling like all anxiety was lifted from me. I felt 100% better about everything, and my stress level was even better than it had ever been.
I never, ever found the watch. (And I've never worn one since.).
12points