The hundreds of first-hand accounts of reality shifts (aka:
mind-matter interaction MMI, quantum jumping, glitches in the Matrix) on
this and the following pages have been collected and shared through Cynthia
Sue Larson's RealityShifters since 1999. Special issues focusing on
particular types of reality shifts (such as: the Dead seen Alive Again,
Seeing Loved Ones Before They Arrive, Invisibility, Walking through Walls,
etc.) can be found by browsing through the RealityShifters
archives and subscribing to the (free) monthly ezine. Hundreds of stories
are reported here in this "Your RealityShifter Stories" section of this web
site, and the phenomenon is documented in the best-selling books, Reality Shifts: When Consciousness Changes the
Physical World, and Quantum Jumps: An Extraordinary Science of
Happiness and Prosperity.
Vanishing/Reappearing Book
Lisa
California
I'd like to share an
experience that I'm still shaking my head over. I borrowed a book from a
friend called What To Expect When You're Expecting. I've kept this book on
one particular shelf for two years. It has a very distinctive cover. I went
to get it down to return it to my friend, only to find it gone! I carefully
examined the shelf, then went out and got a replacement copy. Home again to
see my friend's own book on that shelf! Yowsa!
Appearing/Disappearing Train
June, Colorado
This reality shift
experience took place one day in 1979 or 1980 in Modesto, California. I
will never forget this experience, nor my feelings during it. I would like
to add here that nothing like this has ever happened to me since that day.
I am a very down-to-earth person who is not given to flights of fancy.
The day of my reality shift
experience began as a normal type of day. I was not ill, nor was I taking
any medication at the time. I finished my breakfast, and got in my car
heading for work. When I reached the stoplight at the intersection of
highway 99 I needed to cross in order to continue the few blocks to my
place of employment, the light turned green and I began to cross. There
were railroad tracks on the other side of the street which I would have to
cross over, flanked with the normal railroad/street barriers that come down
with flashing lights when a train is coming.
At this point, I had a
strange feeling as time SEEMED to slow down and SOMETHING FELT STRANGE. I
knew no train was coming, because the barrier and lights were not
activated. As I approached the train tracks... IMMEDIATELY a train WAS
RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF ME APPEARING OUT OF NOWHERE. I slammed on my brakes
and looked right into the face of the engineer... and saw his face was
passive as though he did not even see me... then due to the slamming on of
my brakes, my car whirled around several times in the street. When the car
stopped, I was facing back the way I had come. At the traffic light was one
car with a driver whose passive face seemed to indicate he did not even see
me. While shaking from the fright of the experience and after waiting a few
moments, I righted my car to the direction I needed to go and looked for
that train. There was no train for as far as I could see, and at no time
did any barrier with lights ever come on. It is important to state here
that BEFORE I had begun my original crossing of the street, there had been
several cars at the light... and when I came to my whirly stop, there was
only ONE car at that intersection. All this took place in just a few
moments of time. I then continued down the street toward my place of work,
shaking very badly. I have never been able to understand this occurrence,
and to this day am still very puzzled by it.
Changing
Store Hours
Jen
Toronto
In the Fall of 1990 in
Ottawa, I lived within walking distance of a supermarket that my friends
and I quite liked, for the main reason that it was open every night until
eleven o'clock. One night, however, when I wanted to go to the supermarket,
my friends were telling me I couldn't go - it was too late, and the store
was closed. It was only ten o'clock, and when I reminded them the store was
always open until eleven, they thought I was crazy, telling me that of
course I knew the store was always only open until ten. We walked down to
the store, each hoping to prove ourselves right, but when we got there, the
store was closed, and the little sticker timetable on the door - which had
obviously been there for at least months (and in the place of the one I had
always seen before) - said the store was always only open until ten. The
next day when we went, the other sticker timetable was back, and the store
was open until eleven, and had always been open until eleven. Neither of my
friends seemed to notice that we had slipped into that other reality for a
night. They seemed to be as much a part of the shift as the store was - for
them, it WAS always open until ten on the night it was, and the next night,
of COURSE it was always open until eleven. Sometimes this sort of thing
avoids itself in conversation; it's just hard to remember to talk about
reality shifts with people who don't remember them.
Flowers,
Glasses, & Whipping Cream
Jen
Toronto
My family experienced so
many reality shifts when I was growing up that we began to suspect some
'thing' of taking things, moving things, etc. Of course, there were the
general accusations - I remember the time little plastic flowers appeared
in one of the houseplants, and everyone thought I'd put them there. I was
six at the time, and had noticed the flowers there, and wondered where they
had come from. It felt so freaky to be accused of this that I was laughing
nervously, which made my parents think I really had done it. Weird. My
mother's glasses simply vanished off the top of the piano one day. My
favourite instance, and certainly the most elaborate, was the time we went
to get the big bowl of fresh whipped cream out of the refrigerator for the
apple pie. The bowl was gone. Gone. It was a really big bowl - the kind you
have to hold in two hands, with handles out at the sides, the kind of bowl
you can hold in your arms. Of course, the accusations went around, the
pleading, but when it was finally decided that nobody in the family had
taken and hidden it, we simply ate the apple pie without whipped cream. An
hour later, my mother looked into the refrigerator to get something else,
and there was the big bowl of whipped cream - and it was still cold!
Finding
Oedi-Paws Rex
Gary
California
When I was a boy, I had an
Irish setter named Rip (short for Europides). Ever since then I've always
loved the breed, how beautiful they are! Yet setters had developed a
reputation for having become headstrong, highly strung, and over-bred ever
since the Disney movie Big Red. So I thought I'd like to get an Irish
setter-Golden retriever mix for my next dog, thinking that the more placid
demeanor of Goldens would help balance the more highly strung setters --
yet by finding a mix, there'd hopefully still be some of the more flowing
lines of the setter. The trouble was that almost everyone who had a Golden
tended to breed them with other Goldens, and the same was true of the
setters. But I allowed my fantasy to go to the next stage, of not only
visualizing what the dog would look like, but actually naming it. If I
could ever find such a dog I was gonna name it Oedi-paws Rex (Rex for
short).
At this time I was working
weekends as an apprentice learning how to run a charter fishing boat. (The
one I was working on was berthed at Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco).
The very next day after hitting upon what I would name the dog, I was
cleaning out the garbage left on the boat after a day of salmon fishing. I
noticed an ad in the San Francisco Chronicle newspaper's classified
advertisements for a 6 month old puppy, half Irish setter, half golden
retriever. It was strange to find the very thing I wanted listed in the
paper, the very next day after coming up with the name -- because I had
been looking for such a dog for many months.
I immediately called the
phone number listed. The woman answering the phone at the other end said,
"Hello, this is PAWS"
"What does PAWS stand
for?"
"Pets Are Wonderful
Support--we're a support agency for people who have life threatening
illnesses and need help in keeping their pets."
I told her I was responding
to the add for the puppy that was part Irish setter and part Golden (that I
was gonna name Oedi-PAWS Rex). "Oh," she said, "his name is
REX--he's owned by a man dying of AIDS who can no longer keep
him."
