Has anything genuinely creepy or unnerving ever happened to you?

Quazzie wrote: »

Could it be something along the lines, that you subconsciously seen or heard about this and that caused the thoughts to enter your head. I know I used to sleep with the radio on, and I used to experience similar, but it was down to me hearing about these people as I slept, and not realising it

No. I don't listen to the radio and had not heard or thought of either of these two people at all. They would never have been on my radar and I hadn't heard that either were ill or anything like that. It's happened with a lot of well-known people's deaths. It's a weird one!

Years ago I was looking up accents and stumbled upon the strange occurrence of many Canadians having Irish accents. Disbelieving I watch a video on youtube called “Tea with Babe Walsh, Ferryland” it’s a short clip of a woman born and lived all her life in Newfoundland and she sounds like she hails from Coolea (watch it if you haven’t heard of this before-it’s bizarre!).

Anyway tonight I’m watching Frasier I had recorded and this video clip comes into my head (it has been years since I watched it), for no apparent reason. So I bring it up on YouTube on my phone and stream the video on the tv to show my daughter. We watch it and then when I switch back to tv from YouTube, Rte1 is on and showing a programme about the Irish in Canada.

Coincidence right?! As a further coincidence- I decide to google what it’s called when this happens, as it happens to me often. I find that it’s called “synchronicity”, a phrase first coined by Carl Jung in 1920. As anyone who has watched Frasier knows, Niles is a fan of Carl Jung and even has a bust of him in his office. So, full circle- Frasier to Babe to RTE to Carl Jung to Frasier!

Badly Drunk Boy wrote: »

I fell asleep watch the telly last night. I woke up at 6.30 this morning at was about to go to bed properly when I decided to watch an ON DEMAND programme. Half way through, there was a loud from the hall/landing area which I thought might have been my bike falling (it happens the odd time, and I keep it under the stairs).

When I eventually had a look, it seemed like a box of wood screws exploded, covering three steps in the middle of my stairs. I know I had the box of wood screws, but why would it explode and scatter them like that?

Odd. I wonder was there anything else in with the screws i.e. old battery or some such?

saabsaab wrote: »

I don't know about the squirrel, maybe someone in you life is trying to do that?

Best watch his nuts, either way.

Badly Drunk Boy wrote: »

I know I had the box of wood screws, but why would it explode and scatter them like that?

Where had you left the box of screws that it managed to explode so that it covered three middle steps of your stairs?

Say Your Number wrote: »

A few weeks ago I was walking down a very quiet, narrow country road around 9:30/10 O'Clock, so it was nearly fully dark, no sign of any cars, when suddenly this blinding light appeared behind me,I heard no engine so I assumed it wasn't a car, so I felt this sense of disorientation for a few seconds before I realised it was just a van with very strong headlights and I hadn't heard the engine yet, I know it sounds pretty mild compared to a lot of stories on this thread but it frightened
the life out of me.

Electric van? Some of these are very quiet.

My grandad used to be a mechanic who lived alone in the middle of nowhere. Genuinely nowhere. Somewhere in Tipperary but it was a five-minute drive to the nearest house. During the summer we used to spend a couple weeks with him and go with him to work. It always puzzled us why he actually went to work, because he'd never, ever get any business. I don't think I saw him fix a single car, until this one day when one magically appears in his garage. Even as kids we couldn't understand how it got there, because we locked up with him the night before and, like always, there was no car. I remember him being spooked by it, but trying not to be. He said his neighbour, Mr Murphy (I've changed the real name), sometimes parks there, but you could tell he was bull****ting us to make us not worry as much, which made me even more worried. I've always been very emotionally intelligent. If the Leaving Cert was scored by emotional intelligence, and not real intelligence, I'd have got about a 2,000 points I think. Anyway, grandad tries to open the car, but all the doors are locked, as is the boot. I think it was a Renault. This wasn't during the summer, but our mid-term break in November. Even at 7am it was still pretty much pitch black and even inside you could see your own breath because it wasn't well insulated. The so-called door was a giant bit of sheet metal on a track that you slid across, and the very bottom was sort of flicked up like a hipster's quiff in some parts. Even when the door was shut, the air still got in, but it wasn't big enough to fit an old Renault unfortunately, as much as I wanted it to be. I wanted some sliver of a possible explanation to relax me. My brother was too young and too stupid to know what was going on, so he was no good to me, and grandad carried on about his business as if everything was grand. He lit a smoke and went straight to the office. He had this drawer with about a billion car keys in it. He put his hand in and started shuffling the keys in it, sort of like when somebody's doing an FA Cup draw. He didn't know what he was looking for but, again, he just wanted to make it look like he had a purpose, a plan, to find out what exactly was happening here. All of a sudden, somebody's on the other side of the 'door'. BANG! BANG! BANG! That's him knocking, not saying the word 'bang' over and over again by the way. I don't know if you've ever heard the sound of a thud against sheet metal, but it's really quite terrifying, especially when there's already skullduggery and mystery afoot. Grandad tells us forcibly to stay in the office, as if we actually wanted to see who it was. He also stubbed out his smoke, which made me more worried because it showed me that he was worried. Even surfing on a tidal wave he'd find a way to smoke the entire length of his cigarette, so this was quite a big deal. We can't see the 'door' from his office, so we have to rely on our ears. We hear the 'door' get slid across a small bit and, expecting dialogue, we hear nothing. Absolutely nothing. I tell my brother that it's probably our dad, knowing full well it absolutely is not. We hear it get slid shut again a few moments later. Still no voices. Then we hear footsteps, just one set. Somebody - hopefully grandad - stands on some glass that was there from the previous summer. A shard of glass must've got stuck on the sole of the foot because there's a crack with each step. The footsteps get louder. The crackle gets louder. And louder. And LOUDER. Somebody's outside the office door. "Grandad?" I call out. Still no voices, but there is a grunt. I forget to breathe when I hear it. The door opens slowly. I'm in absolute tears at this point. And my brother is in absolute tears, just because I'm in absolute tears. "Grandad?" I call out again, hopefully. It was Brendan O'Connor, but before he was famous, when he was about 24. "Morning lads," he goes. We're both ball crying. "What's the matter like?" We don't know who this f*cking guy is. "Where's grandad?" my brother asks. "Wouldn't you like to know boys, ha," says Brendan. We see grandad come up behind Brendan. Relief just isn't the word. "Grandad!" we both shout out, rushing to hug one leg apiece. "Couple of little sh*t bastards you've got there, Seamus," says Brendan. "You don't know the half of it," says grandad. As for who owned the car, well that's a mystery to this day.

Hammer89 wrote: »

Thanks for ruining a very good and very, very true story.

If you do say so yourself :)

Tinytemper wrote: »

I didn't read the post in both forms, can you give me a synopsis?

I can't, no. What i can tell you is that it's genuinely creepy and unnerving.

the purple tin wrote: »

Did your Granda just keep the car like? Sell it?

He sold it - and this is REALLY creepy - but the now-owner ran over an urban fox with it the other night.