Share your weird experiences

In My Humble Opinion
21

I would like to start out by stating that I am also an atheist and do not believe in an afterlife. However, there is one really, really freaky unexplained experience from my childhood that still gives me shivers to think about.

It was the middle of the night and I had awoken to go to the bathroom. I walked down the hallway and did my duty and on my way back to my room I was passing the top of the stairs that go down to the first story when I heard footprints coming up. We had many cats but these were definitely human footprints. There was enough light that I could see reasonably well and looking down the hallway, there was nothing there.

The footprints continued to come up the stairs, and I was scared ****less of course. I froze there at the top of the stairs and the footprints approached, reached the top of the stairs and came to a point right in front of me. I could still hear them, right in front of me on the ground but I could distinctly see that there was nobody there. They turned to the room I shared with my brother, the door to which was open, and I followed them. They led me across my room to the window where they disappeared.

Still scares the crap out of me to think about that.

22

This is kind of tame, especially compared to some of these stories, but here’s mine.
This was about 4.5 years ago, which was a fairly shitty phase in my life- lots of family problems, school problems, friend problems, plus I was depressed, etc. etc.

One particular night I was pretty overwrought and decided to go for a walk at about 3 in the morning. So I’m wandering around my neighborhood, thinking about everything that was going on and wondering when it was all gonna stop.

I make it back to my street and stop just a few houses away from my house. I started to(mentally) talk to whatever higher power wanted to listen and ask for some guidance. I asked for something, a sign, anything, to show me that everything was going to be all right. Right at that moment, the streetlight, which I was standing directly under, went out. Freaked me out, and I ran home.

That turned out to be pretty prophetic because things went from bad to worse in the years following. (Don’t worry, they’re better now :slight_smile: ) I don’t really think the streetlight predicted the future, but it was definitely eerie at the time.

23

This thread is giving me the heebie-jeebies. Thanks guys…

24

Me too, definitely a mistake to read this one before bed!!!

25

A good friend of mine died in 2001 at the tender age of 25. I had certainly experienced a good deal of loss before that time, but this was the first time in my life when a peer, someone of my age group, had died. With this came a jarring realization of the stone-cold certainty that I, or anyone else my age, could die at any moment. This realization, along with some other factors, contributed to what became for me an intense phobia of death. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, fearing its inevitable approach, and it hampered me; I was afraid to travel, I was afraid to go rafting with my friends – basically, I was afraid of doing anything besides staying in and playing computer games or watching movies. Ironically, the very fear of death had turned my life into a sort of living death.

That year I took up Literary Studies, and one of the books I had for the first semester was this tome called the Norton Anthology of World Masterpieces – one of those massive inch-and-a-half-thick books with tiny type and extremely thin pages. Sitting in my bedroom dilly-dallying one afternoon early in the semester, I open the book somewhere fairly near the middle – not really intending to read anything, just intending to flip through a few sections and scan the literary delights I have yet to devour. The second I open the book, I see this passage:
LEADER: Poor creature, you and the end you see so clearly. I pity you.
A slight feeling creeps up my spine and I close the book and re-open it, intending to flip through at some other part. The 2,262-page book opens again to the exact same page, and that passage just sits there staring me in the face while shivers run up and down my spine and tears force themselves to my eyes.

Since then I’ve closed the book and re-opened it what must have been hundreds of times and in a hundred different ways, letting it drop open with a minimum of force, trying in every way I can to make it drop open to that same page again. It never has. There are no depressions in the spine, seemingly no “natural inclinations” for the book to drop open to any particular page.

The passage is from the Oresteia: Agamemnon. I don’t know what context it has within the story itself, because I never finished it. I went traveling instead.

26

Sunny Saturday afternoon and I was alone in the house. I was walking through the living room taking a basket of laundry downstairs when I heard my name. Very clearly. So clearly that I actually stopped in the middle of the room and looked around.
Out loud I said, “Well, that was wierd.” and continued on my way – not scared and forgetting about it.

About a year later, I got suckered into going to a “psychic” (I know, I know). He said, “Do you remember a while ago when you were alone and you heard someone say your name?”
“Uhhh. . .”
“You have an elderly lady around you watching over you and she wanted to let you know she was there.”
“Uhhhh. . .”

My grandmother, I assume. She hasn’t talked to me since, but yes, I talk to her all the time.

27

The house we lived in on George Street (Chicago) was built somewheres around 1902, the expeirence my father told me about, that his mother had, had happened about 1940 in Utuado, Puerto Rico.
So, whatever it was that we heard, and she heard 30 years before in a different country, wasn’t from the house. We did hear other weird things in the house, footsteps that sounded like they were coming from the attic (when it was locked) and stuff like that, but the “voices” was the one prevailing thing that we all (my sisters and I) remember as the worst.
I actually used to get up and walk out of the room, just to make sure I wasn’t asleep, go into my sisters or my parents room, or go to the bathroom, turn lights on, etc. And when I got back into bed, they started back up.
Has anyone else heard this kind of sound?

28

Right. Now it’s obviously going to be imposible for me to sleep. And I’ve been having a fever and feverish dreams that accompany fevers. Ay ay ay!

picunurseI am saddened by your loss, but I feel glad that you were able to overcome it.

Fnoof if the story you wrote is real, it’s incredible. I’m truly happy that you found inspiration.

29

picunurse The courage you had to tell us your sad story is only more amazing by your ability to rise above the darkness.

Shirley’s Deja vu in Two Parts
#1
When I was 12, I went to an all-girls’ horseback riding camp.

There were alot of odd rules at this camp, that when you are 12, make no sense. But the big one was, NO RUNNING. Presumably because of woodchuck holes, now that I think about it.

Well, we would have this stretch of wide trail that lead to the lake that there was a section of it hidden by the tree branchs and hills from our counsellors watchful eyes.

The very first day we were going to the lake ( hidden from view from our camp area and tents) us kids ran like banshees down towards the lake.

When I turned onto the specific trail for the lake, I literally had a flashback right before my eyes of a dream of doing the *exact thing with the exact kids running by me. * and I was recalling it enforce. It stopped me cold in my tracks it was that powerful. The image of the dream overlayed my vision. I’ve only had that twice in my life.

Only that that part of the dream where I had move a tree branch to pass through, there was BIGFOOT (as he was hotter than J-lo during that time of my yout) I moved the branch to discover…nothing. One can only imagine my relief over not encountering Sasquatch.
#2

I was dating a guy from NY. He lived on Long Island, but his family had a cottage in Eastern Pennsylvania. So I would fly out from Michigan, and we’d go to the cottage.

My first time driving there, a place I’d never been before, it was night and raining when we pulled off the highway to start taking back roads to the cottage.

You cannot see the exit roads and sundry from the highway because of how it was situation and it was as dark as pitch.

I suddenly had Deja Vu and the images of the recollected dream overlayed my vision. I saw a Lighting Store worker turning off the lights and locking the door from the outside. Further down the road I saw a broken down semi-truck with its driver putting down the flares as warning. The man was barely visible in the conditions.

I told all of this to my boyfriend, who just looked over at me questioningly. Then we passed the lighting store and the worker was turning off the lights and locking the door. and then we passed the barely visible truck driver setting out flares for his broken down truck.

It was a very strange moment. I haven’t had one since, not like that.

30

I get Deja Vu all the time and sometimes I know what’s going to happen next. Granted, what I can see is going to happen is usually predictable. Still, I can see it happen before it’s going to happen and have the distinct feeling that it’s a memory, not insight.

Now, Deja Moo…

31

Isn’t that the mystical bovine practice of chewing cud?

32

Nope, I believe it’s the feeling you’ve heard the same bullshit before.

33

I wouldn’t call this especially supernatural, but it’d definately fall under my definition of weird.

The school that I went to when I was young(er) was quite rich and was very large (area) for its size (student population). This led to there being a ridiculously large area that was only used for sporting occasions composed of six soccer fields (some of them were football, maybe, and I have no idea how big they each were). What this amounts to, however, was that there was a huge expanse of grass where nobody ever really was. Along the edges there were some trees and stuff.

Some of my friends and I liked to wander around the distant corners of the school grounds at lunch time, mostly just to avoid being in a common room full of vile teenagers. Once, a friend of mine and I were wandering in a distant area, and as we approached a bench under some trees near the grassy bit, we saw an old woman sitting on the bench. She was dressed entirely in black, and had (of all things) a goose on a leash. My friend and I merely glanced in a confused manner at each other, and walked in the other direction. After walking for only about twenty metres, we decided to turn back and see if we could find out what was going on, so we turned around, and she had disappeared without a trace.

I should point out that there was no shortage of places she could have disappeared to in the time that we were facing away, although they would all have been into the backyard of either the principle of vice. Like I say, though - this isn’t really a tale of the supernatural… it just seems totally bizarre.

I think that had I seen this alone I would probably now assume that I’d exaggerated it, but I’ve confirmed the matter since with the friend that was with me at the time.

Anyway, that’s my story - sorry if it was anticlimactic.

~ Isaac

34

I was far too young to remember any of it, but my parents swear up and down that we used to live in a haunted house. My brother and sister and I were maybe 5, 3, and 1 at the time–young pups. Evidently, if you were in my sister’s room, you would often hear what my mom refers to as “party noises” coming from the living room, on the other side of the wall. They would hear chatty voices, laughter, dishes clinking, etc. Go into the living room, and you’d hear nothing.
Also, things would often disappear from the attic–sentimental, keepsake stuff–my mom’s baby blankets, wedding momentos, a quilt my great grandmother made, stuff like that. There were extreme cold spots, too.
This wasn’t a particularly old house, it’s in a suburb of Sacramento, CA, and I’ve been back to see the outside of the house more than once–our little handprints are still there near the sidewalk in the section of driveway my dad poured.

35

I should add that you couldn’t hear the voices from any other room in the house, the room was near the middle of the house, and it’s a freestanding single family home, so no chance of TV or party noise from the neighbors or something.

36

A couple of years ago I had pneumonia with a high fever. I wasn’t too concerned about it because I had a habit of getting it once a year instead of colds and flu like normal people. I waited for my son to get home from school, then took some tylenol and got in bed. At some point I woke up to find my dad sitting in the bedroom chair, (he died in 1985). I was comforted, because when I was sick as a child, he was the one that took care of me. I woke up again several hours later, my husband was in bed, so I knew it was after midnight. My dad was still there, but he was standing over me, telling me I had to go outside. I tried to tell him it was cold outside and I was sick. He looked so sad, and told me to please go outside.

I don’t remember going outside, but I remember waking up in the backyard, sitting in the swing. My poor dog who follows me everywhere was with me freezing his butt off. I wasn’t very cold, but confused about why I was out there in my jammies. I got back in bed, and the next day my fever was gone, and I haven’t had pneumonia since.

37

Warning: Not creepy, kinda goofy.

My ex-girlfriend met God. No, really. Although she concedes it may have been a dream, she’s really not known for remembering her dreams and this was much, much more vivid. So she thinks, that maybe…

She was only four years old, and distinctly remembers sitting up in bed and thinking she had to go to the basement (Italian household - an extra kitchen and living room downstairs). It was like someone was calling to her, but she didn’t hear anything. Since she felt compelled to go downstairs in the wee hours of the night, she tip-toed carefully, past her parents bedroom, opened the door to the basement and toddled down.

Then she met God. Long white, beard, wearing a flowing white robe, tall sandals – the whole nine yards. They had a nice chat for awhile - nothing that’s Biblically epic, just casual chit-chat - then He said she should go back to bed because it was late, and reminded her to be quiet so as not to wake her parents.

So she toddled back upstairs, climbed into bed, and went back to sleep.

To this day she has no idea if it really happened or not. She’s not a crack-pot and presumes it did not actually happen, but it was so utterly vivid - textures, smells, temperature, etc., - that she can’t say for 100% that it didn’t happen. So she tells people with a wink: “I met God in my mom’s kitchen when I was four!”

She said that He was very nice.

38

Don’t be silly, God is vengeful, wrathful, irate and a whole lotta other adjectives that describe The Furious One.

39

My grandmother tells the story of suddenly waking in the night to a vision of a good friend from Poland at the foot of her bed (she moved here after WW2 and wouldn’t have seen her since). She felt calm, not frightened, and the vision faded away. She then closed her eyes and feel asleep. A week later, she received a letter from relatives in Poland informing her that her friend had died that very night. To this day she fervently believes that her friend came to wish her goodbye.

40

This thread brought to mind an experience…well, I didn’t have it, but I was a part of it.

My mom woke up one night (2am) to pounding on the door, frantic doorbell ringing, etc. She got up and hurried to the door to find my grandmother standing out there looking worried as hell (and it was about an hour drive to our house from theirs). My mom asked if everything was alright, and my grandmother had said she’d tried calling, but no one answered, so she just came over.

Apparently, she had a dream where she was standing in my bedroom. I was in bed and had the covers up to my chin, looking very pale and sweaty, and told her something like, “You better get my mom, I’m pretty sick.” And she had no idea why she didn’t just wait til morning, she just felt that this was really urgent (and my grandmother isn’t one for signs, portents, omens, that kind of thing, making it all the more creepy).

My mom just laughed. I was fine when I went to bed. And she showed my grandmother to me in my room–where I had the covers pulled up to my chin, looked horribly pale, and was very sweaty. “Real sick,” in other words. I forget what I had, since I was like 4, but it was something bad and I spent a few days in the hospital.

Creepy stuff.

I think on the intellectual level, I scoff at this stuff. But I think it gives me the heebie jeebies cause down on the caveman level, I do believe in dark spirits, omens, portents, that sort of thing.