I have had my fair share of paranormal experiences. I have had my fair share of psychiatric medications which failed to make them go away. My health
is in good shape. I am a pagan, but it's in the sense that I was raised that way and go through the motions like a fair number of Christians. I
consider myself skeptical, due entirely to the experiences that I have had; in my experience, most people claiming paranormal phenomena are psychotic
or lying. I disbelieve new age woo. I have, however, had enough experiences with paranormal phenomena and occult dealings that I believe that some
things are indeed very real. It is with this mindset that I begin my story, as I have wasted enough time with prefaces.
It began in August of 2015, the beginning of the school year. At the ripe age of thirty, I had decided to pursue a degree in physics. In order to
reach my school by the most efficient route, I had to drive down a highway for approximately eight miles, then make a turn onto a road I'll pretend is
called Antelope Rd. From Antelope, I would ideally make a turn onto Jefferson. My GPS told me so, a quarter of a mile away, that my turn on Jefferson
was approaching. I prepared to turn right. I approached where Jefferson should have, but it was not there. In its place was Forest St. I glanced at my
GPS, which has shut off. I glanced at the mustachioed caricature of an Italian man on the front of the ice cream and beef shop across the
intersection. I continued driving, baffled but hoping to run into Jefferson. I pulled into a seedy parking lot next to a seedier parking lot and
fiddled with my phone until Google Maps worked again. It directed me to my school, and I was only ten minutes late to my very first college class.
The strangeness, however, did not end there. Antelope disappeared, turning into Highway 289, which vexed me for weeks. My husband insisted that it was
my womanly driving, so I dared not mention it to him, but it kept happening. And every time I got lost, the next intersection down the road was Forest
St. After weeks, the roads agreed with Google upon their locations, or so it seemed to me, and I believed myself out of danger. I could not have been
In a more amusing but equally unsettling episode, I drew a picture of a Minion for my mom, because she despises the little yellow cretins. I waved it
around in front of her face and did my best Minion voice, and she cursed me in words unrepeatable. In a rare moment of mercy, I took the drawing away.
"I know! I'll put him in the trash where he belongs." My mother chuckled and implored me to continue with my plan. I walked down the hallway towards
the kitchen, folding the piece of paper hotdog style before crumpling it up, placing my foot on the lever to the trash, and dropping it in. A few
minutes later, I went to bother my mom about something else, and saw the minion tacked upon the mantelpiece, never folded, never crumpled, pristine as
it was before I decided it needed to die. "I threw that motherf***er in the motherf***ing trash, mom. What the f*** are you trying to pull on me?"
(She was well aware of the terror the incidents with Forest St. had induced in me.) She looked at me, shocked, truly shocked. "Honey, you tacked that
Minion up to remind me that the Minions will always love me, no matter how much I hate them. Your words, Narrator." I told her what I remembered. I
told her, Forest St. Wasn't done with me. I watched for it, seeing it almost daily, sometimes an intersection transposed entirely, sometimes just a
name, but Forest St. followed me, and nobody else noticed.
I had gone to Buffalo Grove to pick up and drop off a friend of mine for a day of wandering forest preserves and other tomfoolery. On the way home
from dropping him off, I saw the sign for the John Deere dealership which marked the road which lead me home. I pulled into the turning lane, only to
have it abruptly turn into ditch. As the car fought to creep into the center, where a series of metal fenceposts would have put a quick end to my car.
I managed to keep to the right and emerged onto the road, narrowly missing the guy in front of me. I circled back and found the real turnoff, my heart
racing. Whatever this was, it had to stop, because it was going to kill me. And it did stop, or it seemed to, at long last. I concluded that the
routes had somehow been shifted, as if I had fallen into a place where those roads traversed those locations, and then abruptly shifted back as soon
as it would mess up my day.
But as the months passed, strange people greeted me as if they knew me. I thought nothing of it; I was in the music business, drank a lot, smoked a
lot, and met a lot of people. But it kept happening, and with people who had no business at a show geared to the 18-24 crowd. It culminated at a party
in July at my mother-in-law's friend's house. She and three of her friends encircled me and began chatting about how good it was to have us all
together again. 'All together again?' I had seen pictures of these women, wondered at their personalities, and one in specific I thought looked like a
good friend to have. But there was no again in the equation. I hid my lack of knowledge of these women, even evading my ignorance of their names, and
made a b-line towards my husband. I told him what happened. "Narrator, are you f***ing kidding me? You shopped for your wedding dress with them." I
argued that no, I had gone with my mom and (at the time) my future mother-in-law. We went into a grand total of five stores before I had selected my
dress and shoes, and my m-i-l remarked that it was the most efficient wedding shopping she'd ever witnessed.
Somewhere along the way, I concluded that I was slipping in time or space or dimensions or something. Like, instead of living in the world where I
went shopping with my mom and mother-in-law, I now live in the universe where I went shopping with my mom, my mother-in-law, and three of my
mother-in-law's friends. (And the one I thought looked nice was dear to me.) I feel cheated right now. I have discussed it with my psychiatrist, and
he was as confused as I was. I have discussed it with my psychologists, and they were as baffled as I was. But what is worst, and I am telling you
that this is quite possibly the most unsettling sensation I have ever felt, is wondering when I might shift again, and how far I may drift when I do.
Would I drift to a universe where my mom and husband have no idea that this has been happening to me? Or someplace where I have a completely different
life? It is disconcerting and I wish I could find some answer.
I am far from an inexperienced occultist, but this is far beyond anything that I have ever meddled with. If it's a supernatural phenomena, then there
seems to be little I can do to fight it. If it's done on purpose, I don't even want to know who or what has that kind of power. It is a disturbing
predicament, to be sure. I will answer any reasonable questions pertaining to this matter. Thank you for your consideration.
edit on 11-10-2016 by swords because: added info
Edit no 2, a list of incidents
1. All the madness with Forest St. 20-30 incidents
2. The minion
3. People I don't know who know me and provided stories about things I did 30-40
4. Most recently, I have discovered that I came from a reality in which Will Smith lacked a stache in Independence Day
edit on 11-10-2016 by
swords because: list of incidents