Random listing of personal experiences, mine & others

My whole life has felt as a personal evidence marker - convincing to few beyond myself but incredibly compelling to me. In childhood it seemed to me there was a softness between this world & the world of dreams.  I believe I received a birthmark (that's now faded almost completely) in a dream when I was 4. Obviously even if the mark was there I don't expect this to convince others.

The number of synchronicities are too many to count. They range from what are possibly mere coincidences to patterns that seemed so uncanny it felt like I was inside a video game narrative arranged for me.

When I thought of committing suicide, I had an incredible Spiritually Trans-formative Experience that felt like communion with the Divine Feminine.

My mother's last words were crying out "Everyone's alive!", looking past me, trying to get me to see what she saw.

The night I got car jacked a few hours beforehand I felt an incredible sense of dread, like I was being attacked psychically.

There's a variety of conversations I've had with people, who I found no reason to be lying about their own experiences.

[Ninshub]

Some moving things in there, Sci. Thanks for sharing.

My whole life has felt as a personal evidence marker - convincing to few beyond myself but incredibly compelling to me. In childhood it seemed to me there was a softness between this world & the world of dreams.  I believe I received a birthmark (that's now faded almost completely) in a dream when I was 4. Obviously even if the mark was there I don't expect this to convince others.

The number of synchronicities are too many to count. They range from what are possibly mere coincidences to patterns that seemed so uncanny it felt like I was inside a video game narrative arranged for me.

When I thought of committing suicide, I had an incredible Spiritually Trans-formative Experience that felt like communion with the Divine Feminine.

My mother's last words were crying out "Everyone's alive!", looking past me, trying to get me to see what she saw.

The night I got car jacked a few hours beforehand I felt an incredible sense of dread, like I was being attacked psychically.

There's a variety of conversations I've had with people, who I found no reason to be lying about their own experiences.

I like your mother's last words. 

I was privileged to sit with my mother for the last hour of her life a few months ago. The end of a long downward road for her. Was hoping for something, well I don't know, something to occur. Her breathing just slowed and slowed and ,,, well, that was it.

Personally I always felt comfortable sharing my own experiences in the past (on Skeptiko). No matter what our differences of opinions or attitudes, there is an unwritten rule (I don't think it needs to be formalised) that personal experiences are sacrosanct. Unless someone specifically asks for critique or opinions, I think it is the one area that is always respected.

So far on this forum I haven't really shared any experiences of my own, not through any particular reluctance or misgivings, but more simply because I'm a bit burnt-out at the moment, I don't have the energy to contribute much. I'm sure I will do in the future.

Even though elsewhere there are discussions about policy on defamatory posts, as far as I'm concerned, that doesn't apply here. Personal experiences are off-limits and to be treated with respect. I'm always grateful whenever anyone feels willing to share some of these first-hand accounts. It is perhaps the thing I most value about the forums.

In childhood it seemed to me there was a softness between this world & the world of dreams.

Interesting. Can you be more specific?

Interesting. Can you be more specific?

One example would be thinking I got a birthmark in my dream and waking up to find it on my body. This happened when I was about 4-5. I realize most people will say I finally noticed it as my consciousness developed but it was on my pinky finger and I'd looked at my hands for some time.

Growing up the mark faded, so once again I realize this isn't going to prove anything to anyone else but it does make me wonder.

One example would be thinking I got a birthmark in my dream and waking up to find it on my body. This happened when I was about 4-5. I realize most people will say I finally noticed it as my consciousness developed but it was on my pinky finger and I'd looked at my hands for some time.

Growing up the mark faded, so once again I realize this isn't going to prove anything to anyone else but it does make me wonder.

"In childhood it seemed to me there was a softness between this world & the world of dreams" is a wonderful way of saying what I also experienced as a child. I suppose I was one of those who experienced memories from around two-and-a-half, since most people seem to experience "childhood amnesia" up to the age of five. I know this was my age because my family moved to another state when I was three, and I have so many memories from before we moved.

I remember my bedroom at night, and the feeling that I wasn't sure of what I was seeing, if it was a dream, or if it was actually happening. I had a lot of unusual fears because of this, including a fear of the letter G. But that is whole different story!

I didn't have anything as dramatic as yours with the birthmark experience you had, but I do remember noticing my birthmarks and being mystified by them.

I hadn’t posted about personal experiences here because I felt I’d already written several of them over at Skeptiko.

I did, however, appreciate your summary of your own experiences here, Sciborg, because I remember reading about them before.

But, here is one I hadn’t talked about before, on any forum, so I thought I’d leave it here because it has puzzled me to this day.

This happened in the mid-nineties (1995, I think), when I was renting a condo, and working in the tech industry when the Internet was still new to most people. I had a lot of technical books, of course, and when my brother was promoted at his job, he asked if he could borrow one of those books. So, we arranged a date and time, and he drove to my condo, which was his first time coming to my home. (I had only lived there for less than a year.)

While I was waiting for him, I took the book off the bookshelf, sat on my bed, and flipped through it. I then put it down on the bed, which was made with a black comforter on it. I went downstairs (it was a two-story condo) to check on the dinner I had in the oven, thinking I would offer some to my brother when he arrived. He had a hard time finding my condo for the first time, and this was before ubiquitous mobile phones, and there was no buzzer or gate or anything like that.

He finally arrived and we chatted in my living room. We then moved to the kitchen, still talking and catching up; I offered him a beer while I pulled dinner out of the oven. I asked if he wanted any, and he said no, he’d already eaten. We chatted a bit more, and then I asked him if we should move upstairs and get the book. He said yes.

Now, this was back when I was a full-on, cocky atheist/skeptic. And after this event, it bothered me for a long time, because I could not explain it.

We went upstairs, and the book I left on the bed… was not there. I was baffled, but started looking for it. I checked under the comforter, under the sheets, under the pillows, under the bed. I checked the small space between the bed and the wall. I checked behind the bed.  I started thinking I hadn’t left it on the bed after all and misremembered, so I checked my desk, under my desk, my book shelves, everything. My brother was in the room with me the whole time, and he was also looking around for the book. I told him I was sure I had left it on the bed, but maybe my cats moved it or something, thus the thorough search.

I couldn’t find it and I felt pretty bad because he had to go way out of his way on a weeknight after work to find my place and get the book.

I then walked him to his car, feeling guilty, and he said something like, “Well, call me when you find the book.”

We said good-bye, and I walked back to the condo, went upstairs, and… the book was sitting on the damn bed. Right where I thought I’d left it.

I called my brother the next day to tell him I found the book, so he could pick it up. He asked, “Where was it?” I said, “It was on the bed.” He laughed, and then said, “Really?” I said yes. He laughed, but it was one those weirded-out laughs, perhaps thinking I was lying, making things up, or something. He did come by later to pick up the book.

Anyway, I thought of this story because my brother visited me a few weeks ago. After the visit, I emailed him, without giving details, about when he borrowed that book and if he remembered anything about it. And yeah, he remembered.

See, if were just me, with no witness, I could talk myself into thinking I misremembered, or I had somehow developed a giant blind spot that didn’t let me see the book, or that I imagined it, or whatever. But, I have a damn witness, and all these years later, he still remembers it, too!

No one else was in the condo, and my brother and I were together the entire time. I even remember asking him on the phone back then if he somehow pranked me, because it was so strange, though I knew it was impossible because he never even used the bathroom. We really were together the entire time.

Anyway, I have no idea what the disappearing, reappearing book means, or why that would happen. A glitch in the matrix? The men who build the minutes forgot it? A ghost? What?!