was at a gas station a while ago and i bought a pack of cigarettes, the clerk asked for my ID and commented how we have the same birthday, but he was born 10 years earlier. the guy behind me hearing the date repeated a few times started laughing and showed us his license, same date just ten years after me.
Summary: a gas station clerk, some guy in line and I, all happened to have the same birthday, just 10 years apart
When I was eight years old a man walked up behind me, called my name and said, “You won’t remember me, but we are proud of you. We are watching you. Be good now. You are important.”
I ran inside the barber shop to my mom and told her. She went outside, but there was no one there. Ever since then I’ve felt like I’m being watched, but that I’m destined for something special. Epic troll possibly, but inspiring none the less.
I used to play the flute in elementary school. I put these tie-dye hippie stickers on the case so I could tell it apart from everyone else’s and scribbled my name under the velvet liner. I grew bored of it a few years later and let my parents sell it to a family friend.
Fast forward 10 years and I’m over at my boyfriends parent’s house one day. I’m sitting on the couch and his little sister comes in from school and plops down next to me and shows me her new instrument. Lo and behold it’s my old flute! It still has the stickers, so I pull back the liner and there is my name. Apparently they had bought it off someone that lived fairly close to my parents.
Well 5 years, a marriage and a beautiful baby girl later we still get to play on it some times.
I went to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington when I was 12. When you first go in, they give you this passport thing which tells you the story of someone who lived during the Holocaust. The one that I got had a young man whose birthday was the same as mine, except 50 years prior. The day I went to the museum was 50 years to the day since his death.
Here’s one that mum told me. A while back, mum and her family were gathered around her uncle in his home, who had been terminally ill with cancer, and wanted to die in his home. Anyway, being Catholic, he wanted to receive his last rites. His breathing pattern was extremely odd until the priest arrived, and gave him his rites. He died about 15 seconds after the priest had finished. But here’s the weird part.
After roughly 30 seconds of being out of it, he ‘came back.’ He turned to his wife and muttered very softly ‘I can’t go yet, it’s too busy.’ He then slipped into a state of unconsciousness, and died probably 2 hours later. The next day we turned on the news, and last night at seriously 15 minutes after his first ‘death’ was the detonation of the historic Bali bombings that killed many people.
I’ve never really been sure on religion/afterlife, but this experience of mum’s has always made me think.
I got into my car once after having driven to a different city. I flipped on the radio and all there was was silence. I shrugged and was about to change the channel, assuming it wasn’t a valid station, when all of the sudden it said “Daniel.” This is my name, so I said “yes?” out of amusement, and the voice said “I am the Lord your God, Daniel. You must follow My commandments”. Another pause as I freaked the [hell] out for a moment. Then the voice came back and was like “and this is the part in the bible…” and I realized that the classic hits channel in cincinnati was a bible thumper channel in Bloomington
My grandmother had schizophrenia and severe paranoia. One of her major fears was that she was being watched, specifically people filming her. This is a common symptom, so we didn’t think it was that strange. One day, we were visiting a large city (far from our home), and there was a man with one of those old hand-held cameras pointed at us. This was making my grandmother quite upset, so my dad went up to ask the guy if he could put the camera away, but the guy took off running. About 10 or so feet into his run, he smashed into another guy and dropped his camera. He kept on running and after a bit, I think he realized he didn’t have the camera, because he looked back, had this big face of fear and anger, shook his head, and kept on running. Dad picked up the camera and on it was about three-to-four hours of us walking around the city.
Only us walking around the city.
We never saw the guy again. A few years later my grandmother died. This isn’t the first strange thing that’s happened to my family though.
My grandmother died, so my family cleaned out the house and did the usual thing when people die. A few year later, my mom, being a crafty lady, went to a craft store and purchased a pack of papers with different designs on them (maps, newspaper clippings etc). One of the papers was a collage of recipe cards. She recognized the writing and the recipes. It was my dead grandmother’s recipe cards that had been scanned and turned in to artsy paper. These were thrown out in garbage bags in Toronto. The paper company was from California. Crazy!
Back at University, me and my (randomly assigned) flatmate separately took the train down from Newcastle to Bradford to visit our best friends. Turns out they were also (randomly assigned) flatmates. I found that pretty bizarre.
I was taking some picture at a graveyard for a class and my friends were there modeling for me. I ask one of my friends to try fake cry, while I adjust my camera. When I go to take her picture, I see she is doing a great job crying. I take a couple of pictures before realizing that she is looking at this big family grave… with the exact same names of her relatives. There was her dad’s name, mom’s, sister’s and brother’s, exact name with exact last name.
Her family lives in another state and they are alive. So that was spooky, but later on we are all in my car, and we are listening to some music off a USB device. We were listening to a song for like the third time, when the sound goes off and a horrible voice says ‘Get back from where you came from,’ and the song continues where it left off. We were so creeped out we had to stop and catch our breath.