Strange Coincidences — Nobody Believes Me

my daughter was two and a half. she'd just started putting sentences together. one evening im sitting in the kitchen, shes playing in the other room. I hear her talking to someone. kids talk to themselves, to their toys, whatever. but then I listened more closely — she was clearly responding to someone. pausing. laughing. like a real back-and-forth. I went in — nobody there. shes sitting in the corner by the window, looking toward the armchair. the armchair is empty. I ask, who were you talking to? she says, grandpa. I say, which grandpa? both her grandfathers are alive, she knows them by name. she just shrugged and goes, the one sitting over there. points at the armchair. I say, theres nobody there. she looked at me like I was stupid and went back to playing. I would have forgotten about it. kids say all kinds of things. but then it kept happening. several times a week. always the same spot, always that armchair. one time I asked, what does he look like, your grandpa? she goes, old. wearing stripes. and then she pointed to her wrist and said, he has something drawn here. I nearly fell over. my grandfather died eight years before she was born. I barely remember him — I was about six. but I clearly remember he had a tattoo on his wrist. an anchor or something, I didnt really understand it as a kid. and he wore striped shirts — I remember that well, he had a few of them. there are no photos of him in our house. my husband and I moved to another city, all the family photos are back at my parents house. there is no way she could have seen any of this. I called my mom. told her what my daughter had said. she went quiet and said, yeah. dad had an anchor on his wrist. gave it to himself when he was young. then it just stopped. at some point she quit talking to the armchair. I asked, wheres your grandpa? she said, he left. and that was it. never again. shes seven now. doesnt remember any of it. says she doesnt remember any grandpa by the armchair.

i know how this sounds. i know. i dont drink, i dont smoke, i work as an engineer, and i have a good memory. just for context. a few years ago i was driving at night — long highway, middle of nowhere, no streetlights. around two in the morning. completely straight road, almost no other cars. i put on a podcast and drove. then i see it — three lights ahead of me on the horizon. not blinking, not moving. just hanging there in a triangle shape. at first i thought — a tower maybe, or a plane. but they werent moving at all. i drove toward them for about five minutes — they didn't get any closer or farther. then i blinked — i dont know how else to describe it, like a frame just got cut — and they were gone. thats it. darkness. highway. podcast still playing. i pulled over. got out. silence, stars, nothing. okay, i thought. fatigue hallucination, happens. got back in, kept driving. then i looked at the clock — 4:18. i left at one in the morning. to that point on the highway — i know it well, drive it all the time — its exactly one hour. an hour and a half at most. three hours had passed. the podcast — id been listening from the very beginning — was halfway through the second episode. each episode is 40 minutes. so roughly 60-70 minutes of audio had played. but three-plus hours of actual time. im sitting on the shoulder at four in the morning just staring at the clock. phone battery was normal. car was fine. i felt fine, nothing hurt, head was clear. just the time. i didnt tell anyone for two years. then i told a friend — he laughed and said "you obviously fell asleep at the wheel and dont remember it." maybe. but i have never once fallen asleep driving. and if i had — i wouldnt have stayed on a straight highway for another 60-70 minutes of podcast. one detail i cant explain at all and try not to think about — the seat. i always have it pushed all the way back, im tall. when i pulled over and got out — when i got back in — it was moved forward. not by much. but noticeably. i had to adjust it. i was alone in the car.

i dont even know where to start because every time i try to tell this out loud i hear how it sounds myself anyway. three years ago i was traveling to a funeral for a distant relative in another city. bus ride, five hours, i slept the whole way. woke up at some stop — twenty minute break, everyone got off to stretch. i got off too, bought coffee from a kiosk, sat down on a bench. there was a woman sitting next to me. elderly, ordinary looking. we started talking, just to pass the time. she asked where i was headed, i said to a funeral. she said she was sorry for my loss. then she asked, do you think about it much? about death? i said well, lately yeah, stressful job, anxiety. she went quiet for a moment and said "you know, everything is going to be okay for you. you in particular. i can just see it." i didnt think much of it. people say all kinds of things. the bus started moving. i went back to my seat. after a while i looked around — the woman hadnt come back. she wasnt on the bus. i figured she must have gotten off at that stop. okay, fine. arrived, funeral, the usual. two days later heading back. and heres the thing. im waiting for the bus, talking to a distant aunt i hadnt seen in years. i tell her about the stop, the woman. i describe her — grey coat, hair pulled back, thin-framed glasses. my aunt gives me this strange look and goes, wait. takes out her phone. scrolls through photos. shows me. it was her. the same woman. my aunt says thats my neighbors mother. she passed away. in april. i was going to the funeral in october. i still think about it — maybe it was just someone who looked similar? maybe i remembered wrong? but i have a very strong visual memory, its actually something people notice about me. and the coat. and the glasses. and the way she was sitting. and thats not even the strangest part. the strangest part is that things genuinely did get better for me after that. and i dont know what to do with that.

I have a son. He's still little. We started noticing strange things back when he was just a baby. During the period when he cried a lot from colic, a glass baby food jar would crack — and it happened more than once. Once a vase cracked too. But at the time we were just puzzled, wondering how his crying could possibly cause something like that. Then it got worse. When he got a bit older, my wife and I had a serious argument one day — we weren't screaming at each other, but we were definitely raising our voices. Our son wasn't crying, but he was just standing there staring at us, and then we heard a crack. A fracture had appeared on the window. We were in shock. At that point you can't just chalk it up to a weird coincidence or loud crying anymore. He doesn't go to kindergarten. He went for about a week, and then something bad happened. He came home and said he never wanted to go back — that the kids were mean, that two boys kept pushing him around and calling him names. And wouldn't you know it: that very same day, a window in his classroom shattered. The teacher said someone must have thrown a rock from outside. Let's just say there's reason to believe the glass wasn't broken from the outside. Have we taken him to any specialists? No. I don't want my child hauled off for some kind of experiments. But I don't know what to do either. I can't keep him locked away at home his whole life just so nobody notices. I'm posting this in case anyone has already dealt with something like this. If you have, hit "Been there." At least I'll know we're not the only ones — and that everyone else is just keeping quiet about it too.

When I was a kid, I had a best friend. The best I could've ever asked for. She passed away at 13 from cancer. I also have this weird phobia of werewolves that goes all the way back to childhood. I don't actually believe in them or anything, but for some reason they just terrify me — always have. So anyway, when I was 16, I was seeing this guy. The night before I was supposed to go to a party with him and his friends, I had a dream. In the dream, my friend and I were just talking like nothing had ever happened — like she'd never been gone at all. I couldn't remember the whole thing when I woke up, but one part stuck with me. We were talking about this guy I was seeing. She looked at me and said, "Don't you dare go to him — he's a werewolf." And in the dream, I actually believed her. I felt this creeping dread toward him that I couldn't shake. In the morning, I knew it was ridiculous. But because of my phobia, I couldn't make myself go. I avoided him for a couple of days, and eventually he just stopped calling. A month later, I found out he'd been arrested for rape and assault. I thought about that dream immediately. Obviously he wasn't a werewolf — he was just a creep. But somehow that's exactly the image my mind needed to make me afraid of him. Whether it was actually my friend's soul coming to warn me, or just my own intuition working in a strange way — I honestly don't know. But if it really was her... thank you, dear. From the bottom of my heart. And listen to your dreams.