Now, this is a COOL idea!
by fpdorchak
11/22/63 – Not What You Think!
- 11/22/63 (Photo credit: cdrummbks)
Stephen King is, hands down, my favorite author, and this Force of Writing proves his power. It brought tears to my eyes.
I’m not going to give anything away, but it’s not exactly about what you may think it’s about. And that is one of the reasons why I love most of his work (not his angry, mean stuff, like Full Dark, No Stars, which I chose not to finish…and it was a hard decision…)–specifically, his nonfiction and supernatural work. For the most part, whatever he writes about, he makes you care about it, both the characters and the story. This story (yes, it’s long…but is it, really?–and the research!) simply draws you in. Makes you wonder just where the hell he’s going with it. Yellow card? Black card? Green card? WTF?! He weaves and creates entire lives in ways few authors do–or are allowed to, in today’s publishing world. It’s simply magic. Could he have cut a couple hundred pages? Perhaps…but then 11/22/63 wouldn’t be the incredible piece of storytelling it is. It actually seems to me that the length of the story itself is directly analogous to its effect on the reader. Getting lost in another world…another’s LIFE. And how can anyone say that the life of a loved one is ever too long?
Because when it’s over…you’ll miss it.
Miracle in the Sky – Guest Blog, by Karen Duvall
This post was originally posted on Karen’s blog, Feb 24th, 2012. I read it and thought, this is exactly what I’m looking for from others out there! The WEIRD that happens in our lives! Karen graciously agreed to allow my posting of her story here. Thanks for sharing, Karen! Love your story! You’re my first guest blogger on Reailty Check!
Posted: 24 Feb 2012 01:13 PM PST
Skydiving is an exhilarating sport. It’s exciting, challenging, and a bit risky. Faulty parachutes, mid-air collisions, hard landings… I know because I jumped out of airplanes on the weekends during my freshman year of college. And in those days… I’m talking the late seventies… there was no such think as “tandem” jumps. Tandem jumps are for pussies. All 60 of my jumps were done solo and without a monkey on my back.
I looked death in the face every time I stepped onto the strut, the heavy chute strapped to my back pulling me out of the plane, the icy wind thousands of feet above Earth blowing my screams into silence. I wasn’t screaming in terror. I screamed in triumph. Young and invincible, I dared anything bad to happen while I was having such a good time.
Mornings made the best time to jump because that’s when the winds were calm. I’d lie back on the grass beside the airstrip, my head propped against my packed chute, my hands shielding my eyes as I stared upward to watch my fellow divers fall from the jump plane. They looked like specs of sand that grew into small pebbles the closer they got to the ground. Sometimes they’d join hands to form circles in the sky, then shoot away from each other, their parachutes billowing off their backs and jerking them to a brief stop before floating them gently to Earth. A sky ballet without the music.
Parachute landings may look easy, but for me they rarely were. I’ve suffered bruises and broken bones from landing in trees, sugar cane fields, muddy cow pastures, and the center lane of a busy highway. But nothing can beat the day I landed on the beach.
It had rained early that morning and low clouds forced our plane to sit on the runway longer than usual. Leaning back against the bare metal sides of the Cessna, I closed my eyes and listened to the engine roar and the props spin, my heart quickening when we finally began our taxi down the airstrip. The plane’s wheels bumped over cracks in the tarmac, making the metal floor vibrate beneath me until we were airborne.
Our take-off was no different than any other.
A flash of red crumpled cloth interrupted the darkness behind my eyelids and I jerked my eyes open. Everything looked the same. The plane’s floor was bare, the passenger seats removed to accommodate jumpers, though it was only my jumpmaster, Byron, and me on this flight. The pilot and our spotter occupied the two seats up front. I blinked and breathed out a sigh.
“You all right?” Byron shouted above the engine’s roar.
I nodded, my helmet heavy on my head. “Thought I saw something,” I yelled back.
“What?”
I grinned. “I don’t know. It was just…” He must have thought I was an idiot. “Never mind. It was nothing.”
Byron, an ex-marine with the demeanor of Santa Claus, quirked an eyebrow before leaning back to enjoy the ride.
We needed to climb to an altitude of 15,000 feet to allow enough time for a thirty-second freefall. It took a while for the dense clouds above us to part and let us through. Excitement and anxiety warred inside me, but I felt comforted in knowing my jumpmaster would dive with me today.
The pilot nodded at the spotter, who opened the door. A blast of frigid air pushed me firmly into the wall at my back. The spotter hung his head outside to peer down at the miniature landscape below. He held up a thumb. The pilot cut the engine.
Time for us to go.
I climbed out onto the strut and faced forward with both hands gripping the wing. It wobbled slightly as the pilot glided the plane like a kite. I let go and arched my back, staring up at the plane that seemed to fly away from me, only it was me flying away. Falling away. Byron dived out to join me.
My body remained stable, belly toward the ground, as I plummeted at a velocity of 130 miles per hour. Byron’s strong hands grabbed my ankles and turned me around to face him, his gloved fingers now gripping my forearms. The wind pulled and pushed his face out of shape, his cheeks flapping like fish gills. He pointed at the altimeter mounted on the packed reserve chute strapped to my chest, then let me go.
I stared below me, not at the ground, but at the ocean. We had strayed off course.
Arching my back again, I yanked my ripcord free and the parachute popped from my back, caught the wind, and snapped open. The jerk was like slamming on the brakes. I gazed up at the full canopy of black, red and gold, and scanned the horizon for my jumpmaster. His red parachute, now a rumpled ball of nylon, landed in the blue water far below. Byron floated down after it, the circle of a white reserve parachute carrying him gently out to sea. A boat was already speeding out to greet him.
His main chute must have malfunctioned, but he seemed to be okay. I’d pulled my cord higher than usual, meaning I still had a ways to go before reaching the ground. While watching Byron, I’d neglected to pay attention to my own location. I saw water below, a strip of beach next to that, then the rooftops of houses beside a band of highway lined by a ribbon of power lines. The drop zone was miles out of reach.
I tapped the silent radio on my chest. Nothing. As a novice jumper, I depended on the ground crew to talk me down. Not a word came through the tiny speaker and I floated closer to the ground every second. The rooftops looked flat enough to land on, but if I missed I could get tangled in a power line. If I veered too far to the right I’d get dunked in the sea.
“Head for the beach.”
I heard the voice clearly and exhaled in relief. The ground crew. My saviors.
I steered my parachute toward the slim line of beach and touched down within minutes. I could have easily made the wrong choice, but the guardian angel who spoke through my radio had guided me in the right direction.
I tapped the radio again, listening for someone to say they’d come get me soon. Silence. I detached the radio from my reserve pack to give it a shake and was surprised by how light it felt. Flipping open the back, I checked the batteries. There were no batteries. The compartment was completely empty.
I stared at the nylon canopy spread across the sand. What had just happened? No batteries means no radio communication, yet I had clearly heard a voice tell me to head for the beach. Was it the wind? Or had I suddenly become schizophrenic? Whatever it was, it had possibly saved my life.
I never told anyone at the drop zone about my experience, least of all Byron. He arrived back at the airstrip with his bundle of soggy red parachute in his arms and a Santa Claus smile on his face.
“So how was it?” he asked me.
I frowned for a second as I tried to think of the best way to answer. Finally I grinned and said, “Miraculous.”
Just Thought I’d Say “Hi”….
I’m sure we’ve all have experiences where we’ve met someone for the first time ever…and had either an instant dislike or an instant liking.
Sometimes we meet people and there’s no issue with the individual in and of themselves, but we just “clash”’ with them. And as hard as we might try, we just cannot work with the person.
Or maybe there’s something else you just can’t explain.
On July 29, 1997, my wife and I were walking our Black Lab, Mac, in the neighborhood. Way up ahead of us I noticed this guy, walking by himself. He looked somewhat heavily built, at least in the legs, but just walked on by himself. For some reason it struck me, or seemed, I don’t know, “interesting” to me. As we walked on, the guy seemed to slow up, or, at the very least, we overtook him. Again, this just struck me as “odd.”
Why should it stand out to me?
As Laura and I continued our walk and we talked, we overtook this guy, which I was by now strangely fascinated by. As we came up alongside him–Laura and I still talking (and I’m mentioned none of this to her)–I had this urge to say “hello” (I’m normally quite outgoing like this anyway, but felt a need to do this, for some strange, instantly compelling reason).
Almost interrupting Laura, I turned to the guy, and felt this sudden, powerfully strange feeling that this unknown guy was my brother! He almost looked “familiar” to me! I mean, as I looked over to him, I “almost” (does this make any kind of sense?) recognized him–yet didn’t. Like he was a brother of mine in another life. He suddenly felt so damned familiar to me.
And as I passed, I tried to watch his expression (though I didn’t get a good look at his face; just its profile). For a very real moment, I thought he wasn’t going to say anything, then he said, “How are you guys doing?”, or something similar. And when he said that, the greeting felt…“interesting.” It felt genuine; the greeting almost felt like a dichotomy to what he appeared to be like as we approached him–like maybe something weird clicked inside him, too. I could see he seemed quite pensive, quite, “to himself.”
It was all very odd.
As we passed him, I kept feeling him behind us, occasionally checking out the corner of my eyes (I wore shades) whenever I could to see where he was.
I actually felt him.
Watching us?
Later that night I brought all this up with Laura as we were watching TV, and she mentioned how when this happened, I had actually slowed down, and she was wondering what the heck I was doing, thinking the guy probably thought I was weird! I never noticed I’d done that, but was certainly curiously amused! The night before this happened, I was reading a “new” Seth book (personal session that hadn’t been published from the “official” Seth books in their heyday), the first one, where Seth was telling Rob how he and Rob had met another person who was a friend from another lifetime. How Old Friends have a way of meeting up with each other throughout their different reincarnations. I firmly believe this is exactly what happened to me that day. Synchronicity. Pay attention to those.
It was so weird. You know the “weird” I’m talking about…electric, maybe feel like you’re straddling realities?
I mean all this I just discussed never occurred to me as we came up to this guy–just that something “weird” was “about” this guy. Stuff like this is so neat, especially when it just “sneaks up” on you!
So, next time something odd happens when you meet someone for the very first time, try to go with it, and see if you have any feelings or images flooding your mind. Even if you don’t…just roll with it and see where it goes. Try to “feel it out” afterwards. See what you come up with! Maybe, though an instant dislike surfaced, this “meeting” is an effort on both your parts to rectify old wounds. Your and his or her way of saying, “Look, I know we didn’t get along last time, but we’ve both grown since then. Let’s move on and let bygones be bygones….”
It’s neat meeting old friends (and family!) from other times!
Just Thought I'd Say "Hi"….
I’m sure we’ve all have experiences where we’ve met someone for the first time ever…and had either an instant dislike or an instant liking.
Sometimes we meet people and there’s no issue with the individual in and of themselves, but we just “clash”’ with them. And as hard as we might try, we just cannot work with the person.
Or maybe there’s something else you just can’t explain.
On July 29, 1997, my wife and I were walking our Black Lab, Mac, in the neighborhood. Way up ahead of us I noticed this guy, walking by himself. He looked somewhat heavily built, at least in the legs, but just walked on by himself. For some reason it struck me, or seemed, I don’t know, “interesting” to me. As we walked on, the guy seemed to slow up, or, at the very least, we overtook him. Again, this just struck me as “odd.”
Why should it stand out to me?
As Laura and I continued our walk and we talked, we overtook this guy, which I was by now strangely fascinated by. As we came up alongside him–Laura and I still talking (and I’m mentioned none of this to her)–I had this urge to say “hello” (I’m normally quite outgoing like this anyway, but felt a need to do this, for some strange, instantly compelling reason).
Almost interrupting Laura, I turned to the guy, and felt this sudden, powerfully strange feeling that this unknown guy was my brother! He almost looked “familiar” to me! I mean, as I looked over to him, I “almost” (does this make any kind of sense?) recognized him–yet didn’t. Like he was a brother of mine in another life. He suddenly felt so damned familiar to me.
And as I passed, I tried to watch his expression (though I didn’t get a good look at his face; just its profile). For a very real moment, I thought he wasn’t going to say anything, then he said, “How are you guys doing?”, or something similar. And when he said that, the greeting felt…“interesting.” It felt genuine; the greeting almost felt like a dichotomy to what he appeared to be like as we approached him–like maybe something weird clicked inside him, too. I could see he seemed quite pensive, quite, “to himself.”
It was all very odd.
As we passed him, I kept feeling him behind us, occasionally checking out the corner of my eyes (I wore shades) whenever I could to see where he was.
I actually felt him.
Watching us?
Later that night I brought all this up with Laura as we were watching TV, and she mentioned how when this happened, I had actually slowed down, and she was wondering what the heck I was doing, thinking the guy probably thought I was weird! I never noticed I’d done that, but was certainly curiously amused! The night before this happened, I was reading a “new” Seth book (personal session that hadn’t been published from the “official” Seth books in their heyday), the first one, where Seth was telling Rob how he and Rob had met another person who was a friend from another lifetime. How Old Friends have a way of meeting up with each other throughout their different reincarnations. I firmly believe this is exactly what happened to me that day. Synchronicity. Pay attention to those.
It was so weird. You know the “weird” I’m talking about…electric, maybe feel like you’re straddling realities?
I mean all this I just discussed never occurred to me as we came up to this guy–just that something “weird” was “about” this guy. Stuff like this is so neat, especially when it just “sneaks up” on you!
So, next time something odd happens when you meet someone for the very first time, try to go with it, and see if you have any feelings or images flooding your mind. Even if you don’t…just roll with it and see where it goes. Try to “feel it out” afterwards. See what you come up with! Maybe, though an instant dislike surfaced, this “meeting” is an effort on both your parts to rectify old wounds. Your and his or her way of saying, “Look, I know we didn’t get along last time, but we’ve both grown since then. Let’s move on and let bygones be bygones….”
It’s neat meeting old friends (and family!) from other times!
Ghost of Me
One of the weirdest things to happen to me occurred on September 20, 2010, at around 4 in the afternoon.
Actual names have been removed for privacy.
Two relatives were at our home with my wife, while I was at work. One relative was in the kitchen with my wife, the other outside. My wife and the first relative were making dinner. At about this time, both my wife and this person both heard the downstairs door to our living room open then close, and me shouting out (as I always do) “Hellooo!” They both looked to each other and commented that I was home. The other relative then came inside, and my wife told this person I was home. But after a few moments they wondered where I was, because I hadn’t yet shown my face. When one of them went to check on me, they only found one car in the garage–I had not yet returned home!
My wife looked to the one who’d been in the kitchen with her and asked, “Well, you heard it right?” to which the person replied, “Yeah, I heard it.”
But I was at the gym!
<cue Twilight Zone music….>
Okay, that’s a first–I’m a ghost while I’m still living!
After hearing this, I’d talked to all parties, and they all confirmed the above events. Every detail. To make it even more interesting, when I really did return home that night, my wife had me go to where she’d been standing and showed me exactly how it all went down by her going to the same door…opening then closing it. I then came down to her after she’d closed the door and shouted out my normal “Hellooo!” I asked her, “It sounded just like that?” She said yup. She added that I even had that playful lilt to it I always do when I shout it out upon getting home.
Later, as I got ready for bed the next night, I think it was, it dawned on me that when I was running errands after work on the above day (the 20th), I was fully intending to head home to check on some flight reservations I’d made at work for a business trip. When I went to check on these reservations after having made them, our Internet and e-mail went down, and I really wanted these reservations, because I was flying home in the middle of a four-week biz trip. And up until the very last minute, I’d thoroughly intended on actually coming home, checking on them (or making them if they hadn’t gone through at work with our Interent down) then head to the gym–but changed my mind on the drive home and ended up going directly to the gym. So this all happened exactly when I would have gotten home if I hadn’t changed my mind and instead headed to the gym.
What do I think this was? Well, it could be considered “suggestion,” some kind of telepathic link…or perhaps it was an alternate reality. I like to think of it as…a ghost of me!