Fortean Times: It Happened to Me vol.1

by Times, Fortean

  Tony Baldwin, by email, 2001

  LOST IN BRIGHTON

  Tony Baldwin may be interested to know of similar cases of disorientation in Brighton when I lived and worked there in the 1970s. For about an hour in broad daylight, I experienced a very disturbing sense of not being able to find my way out of some streets in the Preston Park area, an area I know well. I have never found an explanation, nor have I had the sensation before or since. On another occasion, a client phoned my office in the Clock Tower area saying she was lost. She was in a phone box within direct sight of my offices, a place she knew well. She also could offer no explanation.

  Rod York, Worcester, 2001

  MIND FOG

  One day in 2000, I had just collected an item I had ordered and was passing through the Mander Centre, Wolverhampton, on my way home. The Centre has four exits, which I know very well, but on trying to reach the exit I wanted I was perplexed and not a little frustrated to find that no matter how hard I tried, I always ended up at the wrong one. This state of affairs lasted for around 15 minutes with me wandering round in circles before the spell was broken and I was able to locate the exit I desired.

  Anthony Smith, Bilston, West Midlands, 2002

  Double trouble

  We assume that we are unique, but occasionally we appear to be in two places at once, like those saints who reputedly had the gift of bilocation; but maybe some of us have actual doubles - or doppelgängers - acting under their own volition. A related phenomenon is the look-alike who heralds our arrival: this is the vorgänger, known in Iceland as the Fylgia and in Norway as the Vardogr.

  Doppelgangers

  THEY DWELL AMONG US

  In the summer of 1980, I started seeing a strange little guy at the bus stop in Calgary on weekday mornings. His skin, eyes and hair all looked artificial. He had a grey suit and briefcase for that “totally normal” look, and always stared at the paper. He never made a sound, never looked up, his eyes never scanned the page or blinked, he never turned the page. He got on the bus with me and stayed on till after my stop. I kept thinking he looked just like something disguised as a human being.

  This went on exactly the same every day for a few days. Then one day he wasn’t there, but he got on at the next stop round the corner - so I figured he was running late and would’ve missed the earlier stop, and probably lived close to both of them. Next day he was back at my stop again, got on with me, and then at the next stop round the corner, another guy got on who looked exactly, and I mean exactly, like him. They both stared at their papers, neither one acknowledging the other’s presence in any way. No one else on the bus appeared to notice that there were two absolutely identical guys on board with them. It was as if I was the only one who could see, or the only one who wasn’t in on it. That was my last day living in that neighbourhood so I never saw either of them again.

  John MacLeod, Canada, 2003

  MAKE MINE A DOUBLE

  Last week, our small and already slightly odd town of Tiverton had widely reported sightings of UFOs. A couple of days later, a colleague at work asked me where I had been off to the previous evening, as she had seen me riding in the opposite direction to my usual route home. She was certain it was me: same coloured crash helmet, same jacket and exactly the same motorcycle. This is very unlikely, as my motorbike is a 20-year-old Kawasaki with a very distinctive green and silver colouring and murals on the side panels. There are no other 20-year-old GPZ550s in my area, let alone customised ones. So who was this other me with the same bike gear, the same bike, and the same very long red hair?

  If that wasn’t odd enough, the next day, my colleague’s very own doppelgänger was seen in the town at 8.30am, when she was 16 miles (26km) away at a meeting in Exeter. It was convincing enough to cause quite an argument in the office between her and another member of staff who insisted he had seen her walking along the high street an hour before.

  Kes Cross, Tiverton, Devon, 2004

  THAILAND TWIN

  I studied travel industry management at a small US mountain college from 1990 to 1995. There was an exchange programme with a university in Thailand, and in my last year of study I went to Chiang Mai in northern Thailand for a resort internship and then spent another week with a friend in Bangkok. Since returning from Thailand, I lost contact with many of my former friends until recently.

  I received an indignant email a few months ago from my friend in Bangkok asking me why I hadn’t informed him that I was visiting his city. He said he was stuck in a traffic jam on Sukhumvit Road - Bangkok’s most important road - when I had walked directly beside his car a few feet from him, which afforded him a face-to-face, close-up view. He rolled down his window and waved and spoke to me but I was totally unresponsive and kept walking.

  This was someone whom I knew very well over a period of many years and he would easily recognise my Anglo-Welsh face anywhere, but especially amongst a crowd of Thais where I would have stood out. My doppelgänger was dressed in my manner, had the same type of haircut and mannerisms, and my distinctive walk. I emailed him back assuring him that I was in the USA at the time of this sighting and had not been anywhere near Bangkok for over eight years; but to this day he insists that it was, in his words, “a hundred per cent you”.

  This is only the most recent example of my doppelgänger making an appearance. About two years ago I was having blood drawn for routine medical tests when the attending nurses welcomed me back into the laboratory and asked me to please be more co-operative this time while being stuck with a syringe. I asked what they meant. It seems that I had been in just a bit earlier that same morning and had put up quite a fight while having my blood drawn, which is totally out of character for me. The nurses both insisted that not only did the earlier patient look and talk exactly like me but had on the exact same clothes as I was wearing. I assured them that it wasn’t me because I was in my GP’s office during that time; to which they replied that I must then have an identical twin in town who shopped in the same clothing stores as I did.

  Alex Jones, Chapel Hill, North Carolina, 2003

  BROTHERS IN ARMS

  In 1982 I lived on the east side of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. At a grocery store I frequented, a man unknown to me said: “Hi Dave”. I passed it off as insignificant. Two months later, the same thing happened in the parking lot of the store. Questioned, he replied that we had served in Vietnam together and that my hometown was Two Rivers, Wisconsin. I actually grew up in Manitowoc, five miles (8km) away. The visual resemblance, same first name and proximity of birthplaces was interesting. But I was never in the Army or in Vietnam.

  I forgot about the incident until 1992, when I stopped at a tavern 20 miles (32km) from the east side of Milwaukee. There was a couple sitting close by who kept staring at me and I had no idea why. When the man went to the restroom, the woman said: “Aren’t you going to say hello, Dave?”

  In the ensuing conversation I found out I served in the same platoon in Vietnam as her husband and was a good friend. Their Dave had gone to the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee at the same time that I was enrolled, and had lived five blocks from where I had my apartment. In combat, you know the people around you. I am at a loss to explain how a person with the same name, the same physical characteristics (down to my moustache and eyes), grows up five miles away from me, goes to the same college, lives so close to me and is recognised by strangers decades later.

  David Zanotti, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, 1997

  TWO-WAY MIRROR

  One afternoon in July 1980, during my visit to London, I went to Bond Street to look at antique shops. In a quiet lane I saw an elderly woman taking a nap against a wall with a wide-brimmed hat shading her face. There was a small cart of second-hand books by her side. As I passed, she looked up and I saw that she resembled my mother exactly.

  I asked for directions to a particular shop. “Stay here please,” she said, gazing at me. “I’ll see if it’s open.” She disappeared round the corner and moments later returned to tell m
e that it was.

  “Why are you so kind to me?” I asked, giving her my thanks.

  “Well,” she answered smiling, “because you look exactly like my son Jeff.” She pulled out a photo of him from her purse. It was a good likeness of me, though a bit younger. He had on a check shirt, exactly like the one I had some years ago!

  Cyrus Ganjavi, Tonekabon, Mazandaran, Iran, 1999

  Bilocation

  SEEING IS DISBELIEVING

  “What on earth happened to you after we parted last night?” a friend asked me one morning recently.

  I stared at her. “Nothing. Why?”

  “You didn’t catch your bus home - but I saw you getting on it!”

  Indeed she had; after our evening class we’d chatted at the town terminus as usual until my bus arrived, then I got aboard and she went towards her house a couple of minutes’ walk away. “Yes, of course I caught it.” And had been unusually thankful to reach home; I was recovering from flu and felt very tired after the evening’s exertions.

  “But you turned around and came back into town? You must have.” She wasn’t joking.

  “Certainly not. Once I reached home I stayed there. Yvonne, what’s all this about?” I added - lightly, teasing - “Don’t tell me I’ve got a double.”

  Then the story came out. Her daughter Nicola had come home half an hour after she did and slightly more than half an hour after my bus left. Yet Nicola - a level-headed woman in her twenties, who knows me well - claimed, and could not be budged from her statement, that she had seen me waiting at the bus terminus two minutes before. She described my appearance and clothes in detail and without error (curly fair hair, white raincoat, brown shoes, glasses). I had spoken to her, had said, “Hello Nicky,” and she and I had talked for several minutes; she recognised my face, as well as my voice and American accent. Nicola became angrily insistent when her mother doubted all this, so Yvonne decided some emergency must have brought me back into town. She hurried round the corner to the bus terminus but, although no buses had arrived or left since Nicola passed by, no one was waiting. The night was cold and silent, the surrounding streets deserted.

  All three of us are in sound health, mental as well as physical. Nicola has excellent eyesight; she is now as baffled and perplexed over the incident as are her mother and myself. The clothes I wore that night are ones I seldom wear; she would not automatically associate them with me and could not have seen me or them earlier that evening.

  So what is the explanation? I was, as I said, unusually tired and felt almost light-headed with fatigue by the time I reached home, but Yvonne did see me board the bus and I did travel home on it and stay there; confirmation of this is available from other sources. Moreover, although tired, I was definitely aware of what I was doing. The fact is that when Nicola saw what she took to be me at the bus terminus and we chatted, my body was not there; nor, apparently, was any living person who closely resembled me (assuming so exact a likeness were credible in this small town and that her knowledge of what I wore that evening could somehow be explained away).

  “Any living person” - there’s the rub. A friend of mine in another town recently had a similar experience: four of her colleagues at work saw her arrive at the office half an hour before she actually did arrive, and again she can prove that she was not there when they saw her. Neither she nor I had any previous belief or interest in ghosts, spirit bodies or other psychic phenomena. She, like myself, was unusually tired and under some stress at the time of the occurrence.

  Since then I have read some of the literature about doppelgängers, spirit-doubles of the living. I would be glad to find a solid scientific explanation, but none presents itself. My nerves stir in an unfamiliar way when I think of what happened.

  Patricia Tyrrell, Newquay, Cornwall, 1994

  FANCY MEETING YOU

  Last year my husband died unexpectedly at the age of 32 and as a result I have had a lot of trouble getting to sleep at night, not managing to drop off until 4 or 5am. One particular night last December, lying in bed still fully awake, I turned over to see what the time was and found myself face to face with myself! There I was standing beside the bed. I childishly hid my head under the duvet hoping my (other) self would disappear, but when I dared to turn down the cover there “I” still stood, dressed in my coat and hat, gazing down at “me” in my pyjamas. Unfortunately, I was distracted by my youngest son crying. I turned to check on him (he sleeps in bed next to me) and when I looked back “I” had gone!

  Deborah Cameron, Blackpool, 1995

  FRIEND DUPLICATED

  In the autumn of 1996, my flatmate and I invited a mutual friend over for dinner. The evening was going well, and we decided to visit a local bar. Our flat lay at the far end of a terraced cul-de-sac, so we had to walk nearly its full length to reach the main road - North Hill, in central Plymouth. I remember it as being a still, clear night. It was pretty dark, but the street lamps meant we were able to see clearly up and down the length of the pavement. As we lived in a dead end, there was no through traffic, and the pavement was deserted as usual.

  We had just started down the street, when my flatmate realised he’d forgotten something and rushed back to get it. My friend and I waited where we were standing and carried on chatting. After a few minutes, I heard our front door slam, then as my flat mate caught up with us, we moved apart slightly to make room for him between us and carried on walking.

  We were nearly at the main road, when I heard a door slam again, then the sound of feet running towards us. I had known my flatmate for years, and instantly recognised the footsteps as his. Confused, I turned round to see him sprinting to catch up with us. Looking the other way, I saw that the street was completely deserted save for our friend and myself. My first reaction was to wonder how he could have slipped away from us and got to and from our house so quickly. Our friend was equally confused, and it was a while before we understood that my flatmate had only caught up with us the one time.

  The weird thing was that we’d both seen him out of the corner of our eyes when we’d thought he caught up with us the first time; I’d heard the unmistakable sound of his running feet on both occasions. I knew my flatmate so well that I could spot him in a crowd instantly just from the way he moved, and I’d strongly felt him with me as a real entity. My dinner guest told me that she had also strongly felt his presence. Neither of us could think of a rational explanation.

  Lily Mayhew, Plymouth, Devon, 2001

  LIE COMES TRUE

  A few years back, while working at a software company, I had to go to their California office at fairly short notice. As I didn’t at that time have a valid passport and there was little time before I had to go, my boss told me to take the next morning off and go to the passport office in Peterborough to jump the queue and get a passport over the counter rather than wait for a postal application.

  That night was my weekly night out with the lads at the pub, and I stayed up later than I should have done. The next morning I overslept considerably, and by the time I’d found my birth certificate and got my photo done it was nearly midday. I was only supposed to take the morning off, and be back at work in the afternoon. I called my boss and told him that I’d just left Peterborough, and that the passport office wouldn’t process my application quickly without a letter from my employer saying I needed to travel at short notice. I asked him if he could prepare this so I could come and pick it up and then go back to Peterborough to get the passport. This he did, and I went to my office, collected the letter, and went off to Peterborough, with no one any the wiser.

  When I arrived at the passport office and walked into the lobby, the security guard nodded a smile at me and said “Hello again!” Slightly puzzled, but thinking that he’d mistaken me for someone else, I asked what he meant by “again”. He said something like “You were here this morning weren’t you?” I said I hadn’t been. He then said: “I’m sure it was you. Looked just like you - same suit and tie and everything. Had to go back
to work to get a letter from his boss.”

  Brian Perryman, by email, 2003

  CREATURE OF HABIT

  About a year and a half ago, a colleague at work had a strange experience that involved me. I used to work for a very small television production company that employed only about 40 staff - so everybody knew everybody else who worked there pretty well. I usually arrived at work around 8am, but on this particular morning I had been asked to come in at 10am. As I walked in, the receptionist cornered me, and asked where I’d been out to. I told her that I’d been at home, but she was adamant that she had already seen me come in at my usual 8am. She had even ticked my name off on her daily register. There was no one else in the company who looked anything like me, and the receptionist couldn’t have got me confused with anyone else, as she knew me very well.

  I questioned her on what had happened earlier that morning, and she told me that I had come into reception - wearing exactly the same clothes that I had on as I was questioning her (including a fleece top that I had not worn in her presence before or since) and that I hadn’t even said a word to her (which was unusual) but walked straight off towards the studios. She seemed suspicious and thought that I was playing some kind of prank, but I assured her that I was not. After that she appeared quite shocked.