This is my third post about time slips, after Time Slips and My Time Slip Experiences. A “time slip” is when a person – or persons – seemingly travel through time, usually through no actions of their own. I can personally attest that it’s a real phenomenon (I’ve experienced it). Here are some more time slip accounts I’ve found.
Experienced by Darren P:
I have had two time slips, 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.
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.
From an anonymous person:
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.)
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…
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.
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.
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.
From Charles Wesley Orton:
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 this road, then west a few miles on that road, the north again on another road, then…. You get the point.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.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.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–I was not aware of anything. 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.
Just want to tell you what happened to me in 1999.It was quick but wicked nonetheless…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.I knew what had just happened but I couldn’t even tell my wife at that moment. She would have thought I was crazy.Anyway, it never happened to me again as far as I know. Just thought I’d share.
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.
1) 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.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.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.
Thanks to Kahren for these stories, the first two in memory of her parents, Ron and Doris Rising:Experiences of Ron and Doris: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.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.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.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.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.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.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.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.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.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.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.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.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.Kahren’s own experience: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.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.
This 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.
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.
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.
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?)
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).
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.
An article from another site:
We’re accustomed to time moving from past to present to future. Yet, is time always linear? Here are true stories of experiences of time and space anomalies. The firsthand accounts include time travel, time slips, and encounters with other dimensions. The stories were collected by a well-known writer and expert in paranormal phenomena and edited by Anne Helmenstine.
Baby Monitor Time Warp – Sheri N.
As usual, the long work day was coming to an end and I was dutifully putting the last load of laundered clothes away in our bedroom when I heard a ruckus on the baby monitor just a few feet away from me. I thought it strange when I knew my husband and toddler were both in the living room quietly watching TV as my two-year-old drifted silently off to sleep curled in my husband’s lap as he caught the evening news.
The bedroom door was straight in front of me and I could see all the way down the hall to my husband and son in the Lazyboy chair as this ruckus over the monitor continued.
It didn’t take long for me to realize the sounds were very familiar. Earlier in the day, I was in my toddler’s bedroom putting a load of folded clothes into the drawers and picked up some stray toys and books that weren’t being played with at the time. As I was doing so, I was telling my son about the story of “Jack and The Beanstalk” for the first time.
Now I stood in disbelief as I heard the drawers being pulled open and shut and rustling of the toys and books being put into their proper places. But I nearly fainted when I heard my son’s voice over the monitor! I kept looking back and forth at my husband and now-sleeping son in the chair in the living room and the monitor sitting on my dresser that was literally replaying the specific events from earlier in the day!
The monitor is a standard baby monitor bought from Wal-mart and is NOT a recorder, but instead monitors the sounds coming from the room as they are happening at present time only.
I listened as my voice retold the story of “Jack and The Beanstalk” and listened with familiarity as my son responded in baby-talk to the tail he had never heard before. The incredible part was this all happened five hours earlier on the same day!
I quickly called my husband into the room as he listened to the last part of the story with my voice coming through the monitor and our sons coos and chuckles. He stood stunned and turned his head and looked at our sleeping son flopped peacefully over his shoulder. In disbelief, he asked, “How in the hell…?!” as his voice drifted off trying not to miss a thing. I just stared at him in the same disbelief and we both just shook our heads.
This has never happened before or since and became pretty clear from the beginning that we were listening to some kind of warp in time. I never imagined in a million years that I would be witness to it and must admit, if it should happen to you, it is indeed, one of the most incredible moments one can ever experience!
Dimension Shift in Tacoma – Gary Spring
I was walking in downtown Tacoma, Washington one evening around 9:00 o’clock. I was on my way to meet a friend at a certain intersection. The year was 1976. I was enlisted in the U.S. Army and was stationed at Fort Lewis. I remember it was the month of April. As I was walking, I started wondering what time it was. So I looked around for the nearest store where I could find out the time. I looked across the street and there was a walk-in movie theater. I figured that was as good a place as any.
Then the weirdest thing happened. I started to cross the street… and the next thing I knew my vision was clearing up and I was standing in front of the ticket counter inside the theater lobby! I had a ferocious headache and my legs felt very unsteady. I recovered a little, but that headache was something else. I bowed and started rubbing my forehead. After a minute or so, I heard a gasp. I looked up and there was this pretty girl on the other side of the counter with a suprised look on her face.
She asked me how I got in! With the throbbing pain in my head, I looked at her and didn’t know how to answer her. I was confused. I started to walk toward the counter and she backed away. Now she had a scared look on her face! She asked me again how I got in. I looked up at the wall behind her. There was a clock hanging there. I started to mutter, “What time is it?” She then told me I had better leave or she’ll call the police.
I felt so weird; it’s hard to explain. I felt like I had broken through into a territory I didn’t recognize. I stood there for a few minutes. That’s when the girl went into the back room.
I could hear her talking to someone. I turned around and started to walk toward the entrance. That’s when this big guy came out of the back room, walked around the counter and before I could say anything, grabbed me by the arm, pulled me toward the entry way, unlocked the door and shoved me outside. He told me to get out of there and went back inside. I still couldn’t figure out what was going on.
I stood there looking around rubbing my head. Then it dawned on me. The time on the clock read past midnight! I looked back at the theater. It had the “CLOSED” sign on the front door! The girl and the guy were still there looking at me. Then the big guy opened the door again and warned me that if I didn’t leave that instant he was going to kick me in the butt. So I started to walk away, still confused, and as I was walking I heard the guy say, “I don’t know how you got inside with the door being locked, but you better not come back!”
The headache eventually went away and I never did meet my friend.
Future City – Daisy
It all began when Rick and I were going to a friend’s house last September. We were driving Rick’s beat up old truck and the drive went smoothly for the first 45 minutes.
Suddenly, the truck’s engine died and Rick and I were stranded on a deserted highway in the middle of the night. We were surrounded on both sides of the road by cornfields that stretched into the distance. Rick began a desperate effort to restart the truck and fix the “broken” engine. He tried to fix the truck in vain, but nothing seemed to work. Rick finally gave up and we decided to walk to the nearest town about two miles away to find a payphone to call our friend.
We walked for what seemed like hours and the town was nowhere in sight. However, just when desperation was about to grip us, we saw a light, a gloriously bright light, shining over the steep hill ahead of us. We ran up the steep hill that blocked us from the light and were flabbergasted by what we saw.
Just over the hill, Rick and I saw what could only be described as a futuristic city with lights streaming out of every window of the massive, metallic towers. In the middle of the futuristic city, was a huge silver dome. I stared at the city, stunned, until Rick elbowed me, which pulled me out of my trance and he pointed to the sky. Hovering above the city were hundreds of hovercraft. One flew toward us with amazing speed. Rick and I were so scared that we took off running back to the broken down truck.
I never looked back, but I felt someone watching me the whole way. When we got back to the truck, it started without difficulty and Rick and I took off as fast as we could in the opposite direction. We never went back or spoke of it again to this day.
Hospital Space-Time Confusion – Mel H.
My husband and l live in the deep woods of east Texas, near a tiny place called Mt. Sylvan. I had been having some medical tests done at a hospital nearby.
I went for testing three days in a row, always with the same routine: I parked in the same small parking lot, walked through the double doors leading to the first floor cardio testing area, turned right at the gift shop and signed in at the desk. I always exchanged some casual conversation with the same young and very pleasant blond receptionist.
There was a small sitting area across from her desk, with a door leading to the phlebotomy (blood drawing) lab right behind her cubicle. The door to the lab was always open, though, and the sight of patients sitting in the exact type of chairs — even the same color — that I saw my late mother sit in for her chemo treatments was just too gut wrenching. (She died a year ago.)
I even heard a patient in the lab comment on the new chairs, and a nurse replied that the hospital’s oncology department had donated them. I decided to sit across the hall anyway.
Last Friday my husband went back to the hospital with me to hear the test results. He had never been there before. Usual routine: we parked, walked in, turned past the gift shop and… there was no check-in area! I stood and stared in total shock: no desk, no chairs, no blonde receptionist, and the door to the lab was on another wall! The other sitting area was just as before.
I started to walk up and down the hall searching for “my” check-in area, but it was nowhere to be seen. A doctor walked by, noticed my confusion, and asked what I was looking for. When I told him that the place I had checked in for my tests was missing, he laughed and said that it had been moved to the second floor three years earlier because they needed more space!
He Got There Before He Arrived – Eula White
My mother, Eula White, was born in October, 1912. She grew up in rural Alabama and Florida in the 1920s. She told a lot of stories of the people and of the events of those days, most of them of interesting but ordinary events. But one day she told me a story of an unusual event that she had directly experienced as a young girl along with about a dozen other women and children. “I remember this event well even after all these years,” she said, “precisely because it was so unusual.”
“In those days,” she told me, “rural Alabama was still kind of backward. Little electricity and horses and wagons the only transportation for many farm folk. I remember it was a bright summer day. Early that morning the other women and I had gathered on the front porch of the Hawkins’ farmhouse to shell quite a few bushels of peas and beans for preserving and just to talk as we worked. The younger children were playing in the yard. Mr. Hawkins came out on the porch and told Mrs. Hawkins that he was going to town on business. Mr. Hawkins saddled his horse, and as he rode through the big gate directly in front of the porch, Mrs. Hawkins reminded him to bring home a big sack of flour. He answered her with a grunt and rode off.
“About mid-afternoon we were still on the porch shelling peas. We looked up and saw Mr. Hawkins approaching the house. The road leading to the house came off the main road and was about 300 feet long, and ran directly up to the porch. So we could see him coming quite clearly. Thrown across the saddle in front of him was a large white, cloth sack of flour and cradled in his left arm was a brown bag of other groceries. We watched as he rode up to the gate, and he stopped there, waiting for someone to open it. One of the boys ran to the gate and opened it. Then, in full view of all of us women and children, Mr. Hawkins vanished. He just disappeared, instantly.
“We sat there for a second or so, just astonished. Then, terrified, we began screaming. After a few minutes, we calmed down. But were still shaking and confused. We just didn’t know what to do. So after a while we went back to shelling peas. But all of us, the children too, huddled up there on that porch, afraid. Mrs. Hawkins made one the boys close the gate.
“About half hour later, we looked up and again saw Mr. Hawkins riding toward the house with that same white sack of flour across the saddle in front of him and that same brown bag of groceries in his left had. Again he rode up to the gate without a sound and stopped. None of us had the nerve to open the gate. We were all just too afraid to move. We just sat there staring at him, waiting to see what would happen next. Finally, to our relief, Mr. Hawkins spoke: ‘Well, is someone going to open the gate for me?’
“Mr. Hawkins,” mother said, “got there before he arrived.”
The House That Wasn’t There – Suzan
I swear this is a true story. My husband was carting wheat in the summer of 1994. He was outside Molong in NSW, Australia, and drove past a “For Sale” sign on a farm gate along with the agents details. Our 12-year-old son was with him. On the return journey, they stopped, climbed through the fence and walked up the circle-shaped drive to have a closer look at the old house. He said he could see through the window and found the old house old and abandoned.
On his return home a few days later, we rang up the agent and asked for further details about the property, as we were interested in purchasing it. The agent had no idea what we were talking about and insisted that he had no properties for sale on that road. A week later, my husband and I drove to Molong to have a look at the farm ourselves. We drove up and down the whole road until we were almost to the next town. All that he could recognize was a water tank on the hill, a creek and some trees where the house used to be. There was no gate, drive, real estate sign… or house.
Instant Replay – Ryan Bratton
This happened when I was about eight. My friend and I were sitting on his yard while some kids rode their bikes down a downhill driveway. A car came down the road and stopped at a house. A kid got out and ran inside making noises that kids around his age make. Then a girl rode her bike down the driveway. A couple of minutes after this happened, the same car went down the road, stopped at the house, and the same kid got out of the car and ran inside screaming the exact things he had been saying. Then the girl went down the hill on her bike again. I looked over to my friend and he said he had no idea what had just happened.
Lagoon Mystery – Jacob Dedman
On a hiking trip when I was 16, I got separated from my group. I wandered around for hours looking for them. I came to a the edge of a cliff overlooking a small lagoon. I attempted to yell for help when the edge I was standing on gave way.
As I started to fall, the thought of my death began flowing through my mind. Before I reached the halfway point of my fall, I saw a strange shadow approach me out of the corner of my eye. The form of a black-haired woman appeared from the shadow dressed in what appeared to be animal hides. Her eyes were what I noticed most, though. One a silvery blue, the other a glowing green.
She grabbed hold of me in her small but strong arms and our fall began to seemingly slow. We landed softly, almost like a feather, next to the small lagoon. I asked her if she was an angel. She smiled at me and said no. All she told me was that this place belonged to her, then turned and walked into the shadows of the forest and disappeared.
I shortly met up with my group and told them what had happened. They laughed at me and said no place like the lagoon was around here. We went home. I returned the next weekend determined to find her. I retraced all of my steps. But the lagoon and the cliff were gone.
The Disappearing Boarding House – Richard P.
This is a story of my mother’s experience that took place near her home in Jersey City, New Jersey during the mid 1930s.
My great-grandfather Valentine was living in a boarding house a few blocks from his daughter, my grandmother Sarah. One day Sarah got word that her father was not only about to be evicted, but was about to be committed to a mental institution.
When she got to the boarding house, my great-grandfather was shaking and drooling. She looked at her dad and said,”Pop, Do you want to come live with me?” Her dad inquired, “Do you have the room?” She replied, “We’ll make room.” So, my great-grandfather moved in with his daughter and her children.
According to my mother, a few days after that incident, the boarding house and landlady disappeared. There had been no explosion, it was not torn down, not moved. It simply vanished as if it never existed.
London Time Slip – Ronnie M.
I live in London and it was late October, 1969, and I was walking home late one Saturday night. I had to walk through an underpass, which was under the busy North Circular Road. It was cold and late and I was surprised to see about five kids down there collecting pennies for the Guy, being as firework night, 5th November, was soon. These kids should not have been out that late, seeing as the oldest was a girl aged about 12 years old and the others younger.
What shocked me were their clothes. Their attire made me think they had come straight out of 1920s or 1930s London. Their speech could have been taken straight from a Charles Dickens‘ novel. I heard one young boy say, “That other gent gave me a florin.” At his age there is no way he could have known what a florin was, an old English coin for the then two shillings.
This was the late 1960s and kids certainly didn’t use words like “gent” anymore. “Geezer” or “bloke” perhaps.
The girl approached me saying, “Evening sir, penny for the Guy, please, sir?” Her politeness shocked me, but I said I hadn’t any money. She slid her arm through mine and she ran her hand down my sleeve saying, “Yes you do, sir. You are a fine gent. You do have money.” I assured her I hadn’t and I expected a rude mouthful, but she replied, “Ok, thank you, sir. You have a good evening, sir.”
I knew I had to give these kids something, so I pulled a silver sixpence from my pocket and called her. I threw her the coin and she gave me a thank you and a beaming smile. I walked off into the night.
This experience bugged me bad. Who were those kids from the past? I asked local people if any kids were killed there during WW2, but nobody remembered. Did I meet ghosts? Kids from the past? I guess I will never know.
Lost Time in Ohio – Douglas
This story takes place in Austintown, Ohio on Route 76 back in 1981. I was 20. Dad asked me if I wanted to look at a house that was for rent. The next morning we went to his mom’s house at 5:00 for some coffee. She asked what we were doing out so early. Dad told her that we were meeting a realtor at at 6:00. At 5:30, we left getting to the house a couple minutes before 6.
As we pulled in the drive, we noticed the yard had not been cared for. The house was a rectangular two-story dwelling with front windows only on the second floor. As we got out of the van, it was a quiet, calm day except for two kids laughing in the back yard. We figured it was the neighbor kids from across the street. As we approached the back of the house, there was a swing set with two swings. They were swinging in opposite directions with nobody on them. There was laughter of a boy and a girl. Another quick glance and the swings were still. Dad asked if I had seen that. I had.
We proceeded back to the side of the house. We passed the garage. It had two wooden doors with small glass panes. We looked in the window. The garage had a dirt floor and was empty. We walked up to the side porch. The door was unlocked so we went inside.
Dad turned on the switch, but no lights came on. I tried a few with no luck. The inside of the house was weird. There was a large room with doorways branching off. The living room was like none I had ever seen. It was about 10×40 with no windows except for the small one in the door. I went back into where dad was. He was trying to open the basement door, which was locked. Dad asked if I was ready to go. Instead of leaving, he went into the living room and stared out the front door window for about three or four minutes. I was about to go upstairs when I got an eerie feeling. So, I stayed in the main area.
Dad then came out and asked if I was ready to go again. At that point, dad made the remark that we hadn’t tried that door. We had. It was the locked basement door. He turned the knob and the door opened. The hair on the back of my kneck stood up. Now I was getting scared. Dad flipped the light switch and it came on. I was wondering why the other lights didn’t come on earlier. Dad proceeded to go down the steps, but I was leary. I went down. The basement was small. There was an old wringer washer with a loaded revolver on the lid. It was like the silver and ivory-handled cap guns that kids use today. I picked it up four inches off the lid and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a light cord moving. The lights went out and the door slammed shut. It was so dark you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. I felt aimlessly for my dad. Holding his shirt, we went up the stairs. At the top, he stopped and let out a blood-curdling scream. It made my blood run cold. I pushed him and he pushed the door open. All the lights were on and it was dark outside.
After jumping in the van, dad turned the headlights on. The garage doors were open. There was a lamb lying on the dirt floor with its throat slashed, jerking violently. Blood was running into the dirt.
When we arrived back at my grandmother’s, it was 2:30 a.m. She asked where we had been all day. We had lost 21 hours in five minutes time in the basement. Later, we drove past the house and all the doors were shut and the lights were out. When I would ask dad about what he had seen, he would cuddle in the corner and shake like a kid crying. To this day, I don’t know what he saw and I don’t want to know. Since he has passed away, I will never know.
When I went back in 1987, to see if the house was still there, it was boarded up. There was a large FBI sign on the house stating that for your own safety, stay out.
Dimensional Shift on the Hutchinson – Kathleen S.
This happened in 1986 in New York on the road between White Plains and the Throgs Neck Bridge. I was travelling the road one afternoon on my way home from White Plains to Bayside, Queens. The journey required me to travel the Hutchinson River Parkway, pay a 25-cent toll, and cross the Throgs Neck Bridge.
The road before the entrance to the Hutchinson River Parkway was confusing. It was easy to miss the exit. I remember nervously looking at the 25 cents on the tray of my Volvo, wishing the toll would come sooner than it did so I could be on my way.
That is when I missed the exit. I travelled about half a mile beyond it, and then in a panic, I decided to back up on the highway and see if I could get the exit after all. I backed up with oncoming traffic behind me, swerving the car to the shoulder to make the exit amid beeping and skidding, but I attained the exit with no damage.
Just as I reached the Hutchinson River Parkway and got on it, I heard the siren. It was a highway patrol car coming after me. I figured he witnessed my crazy driving move.
As I pulled over, I looked in the rear view mirror. The policeman that was getting out of the patrol car was the scariest one I had ever seen. Never mind the boots and the hat and the sunglasses, he just looked completely mean. I looked down at my lap and said out loud, “Dear God, I’d rather be anywhere but here.”
I went into my pocketbook to get my license, and when I looked up, my car and I were sitting on the side of the entrance to the Throgs Neck Bridge — well beyond the Hutchinson River Parkway, which I hadn’t driven yet. The 25 cent toll was still on the tray in my car.
I had this funny feeling that I was frozen and I did feel stiff, so I flexed my wrists, rubbed my eyes and looked again. I was still on the entrance to the bridge — a good 20 miles beyond the Hutchinson River Parkway. In order for this to happen, my car and I would have had to have been lifted in the air and placed back down 20 miles up the road.
After sitting for about 20 minutes in shock, I put the car in gear and drove over the bridge. Just beyond the bridge was my neighborhood. I always wondered what the cop saw. Did he see me vanish? Did it just “un-happen” for him? I will never know.
We live in a very strange world…