Of Some First-Hand and Of Some Second-Hand Experiences, Part 1

Personally, I hardly ever came across an adult who has never - not even once - experienced something weird and inexplicable. Those of you who never experienced anything of sort - do beware, ‘cause you never know… In today’s article I’ll illustrate my own such experience, and also a few additional ones by some people close to me. As (mis)fortune would have it, there aren’t many, so this article probably won’t run to some astronomical lengths. Being that I chose to write along the lines of Forteana and the weird in the world, I felt the need to open up to you - the readers - and tell you about such stuff I myself have experienced or have heard from the people close to me. Their recounts were evaluated through my merciless tests of validity.

It is interesting to note one’s reactions to the experience of something they perceive as strange. Namely, one does not quite know how to react (this goes for me, at least). Even as the years pass, one doesn’t cease to think about that occurrence and repeatedly ask oneself something like, “Did that really happened?” As the time passes, the memory of the event slowly fades, though, naturally, its main elements likely remain well ingrained in our brain cells. As the details seep away from one’s grasp, the remaining memory becomes blurry, begins to seem not real. In addition, probably as the direct result of the process of forgetting, the remaining memory evokes a feeling similar to that a memory of a dream does.

Be that as it may, a sane mind can still - and rather quickly at that - penetrate all such prosaic thoughts and impediments and, once again, bring to one’s thoughts a clear, vivid, and detailed recollection that confirms the weird experience seemingly long forgotten. Whenever I attempt to accept the fact that I also experienced such an  anomaly  (which remains rationally inexplicable), I begin to feel a sense of unease, sometimes even downright horror.

I was hardly (if at all) aware I exist when I first experienced such an weird event. Barely born, my instincts defined when to get restless, when to smile, when to sleep,… when to let out a ‘nice’ cry protesting the lack of immediate attention either to myself or to my dippers. Without a doubt my biggest struggle was figuring out when my dippers would get changed. Like most any other baby’s, that’s what my world pretty much consisted of. Of course I don’t remember anything about it!

Continued in Part 2. . .