the thought of inexplicable or surreal events has always fascinated me, and while i haven't had many personal experiences with such things myself it's very fun to read the stories of others about this topic. if you've ever been in a bizarre situation that seemed rather askew or irreconcilably menacing then this is thread is for you to share it, whether the origins of those feelings be natural or otherwise
i can think of two such things that have happened to me within recent years. at the campground i work maintenance for there's an old log cabin that was built by the industrialist charles nash in the 1920's. the structure has been renovated and repaired many times over its long history but the core of the structure is still there, along with the original fireplace and chimney. the hallways to the bedrooms are long and narrow, all the doors set perpendicular so that it's nearly impossible to see into any of the rooms at a distance. there's a sort of lounge room on the second story set atop a very steep log staircase in the great room, and next to the upstairs lounge behind a false wall is a dusty attic crawlspace criss-crossed with gangplanks. it's a very magnificent, very beautiful lodge during the daytime, naturally well-lit thanks to the many vast windows in the building. while cleaning the lodge i greatly enjoy looking out the back porch towards the lake
however, the building's atmosphere quickly changes once the sun sinks below the horizon. the rooms that were previously bathed in the sun's light quickly dim to a profound darkness, the light of the moon serving to faintly illumine the edges and corners of objects while offering no real clarity. the ceiling fixtures offer a sterile, clinical light that only deepens the pitch blackness of the many windows, making the lodge seem almost as though it floats alone in some ethereal void. the empty eyes of the stuffed moose in the great room seem malicious in this light, as though i disturbed him from a long rest with my very presence. from the first time i cleaned this building at night it always felt strange, but for the first two years i just figured i was being a chicken and ignored the feeling. i did, however, notice that certain doors i had definitely shut previously would be open again after going to a different part of the building, or most offputtingly, the light at the top of the staircase would turn on despite me not going up there yet (the only switch is on the top floor.) sometimes when turning corners or looking down hallways i could swear there were faces just turning away as i approached, but nothing would ever be there when checked.
all these things could be easily excused by a poor memory or tricks of the mind, but one late evening when i was cleaning the lodge something happened that i could not readily explain away. i was mopping the great room and my back was to the staircase. returning to the kitchen to rinse the mop, i turn back and notice that damned light at the top of the staircase was on again and i was absolutely certain it hadn't been just moments ago. just as i began mopping again there was a thunderous pounding of footsteps from the upstairs lounge that had pierced the silence like a knife, the sounds of footfall exactly like a fully grown man sprinting at full speed across the floor. with my heart in my throat i let out a terrified shriek and dropped everything as i got the hell out of that building as fast as possible, making a mad dash for my boss's house just down the road. i yelled and slammed my fists on his door, looking backwards at the lodge expecting to see someone or something in pursuit but finding nothing in the darkness. understandably he answered rather upset with the force of my knocking, but i quickly apologized and explained myself while trying to regain my breath and composure. at that point we were the only two people on the entire 120 acre property, so he came with me back to the lodge with shotgun in hand. as you might expect there was no sign of anything amiss, all except the door to the upstairs lounge hanging ajar. since that day i refuse to clean that building at night and intentionally plan my schedule to clean that building only during the daytime. i also learned that my boss had several strange experiences in that building as well which made me feel slightly less schizophrenic
the second is much shorter and a lot less mystifying since i'm pretty sure it was just some sort of half-waking delusion. before we built the barn that currently stands in the pasture there was only a small eight-foot-square wall tent that we stored hay in to keep it dry. it was a makeshift building and constructed rather poorly, having a flap in the tarps as a door for quite some time before i got tired of the flap getting stuck in the snow and framed a proper door for it. because the pasture houses were open at this time with only a fence acting as protection i would have to sleep in the hay tent if we had suspicions of predators in the area, and such a time came as there was a group of coyotes crying very loudly in the night and we were very worried about the flock. for about a week i slept in that hay tent with a shotgun at my side, often falling in and out of sleep while trying to stay somewhat alert for any activity. one evening in the dead middle of the night i was abruptly awoken by a loud scraping noise at the door, and what sounded like very loud panting or snarling. from a small gap at the top of the door i could very clearly see two menacing red eyes staring down into the tent, and as the scratching and snarling continued i yelled loudly for the thing to leave while reaching for my gun and raising it towards the door; however, i felt petrified with fear and was worried that if i missed i could've very easily shot my livestock on accident since they were just beyond the door as well. in short order i mustered up the courage to kick open the door and all that met me was the slitted pupils of my goats staring confusedly at my headlamp. to this day i have absolutely no idea if i was actually awake and this was some sort of paranoid delusion or if it was some sort of dream that felt very real, but i've often had the same nightmare of a wolf attacking me in that pasture both before and after that incident so i'm not really sure what that means
i can think of two such things that have happened to me within recent years. at the campground i work maintenance for there's an old log cabin that was built by the industrialist charles nash in the 1920's. the structure has been renovated and repaired many times over its long history but the core of the structure is still there, along with the original fireplace and chimney. the hallways to the bedrooms are long and narrow, all the doors set perpendicular so that it's nearly impossible to see into any of the rooms at a distance. there's a sort of lounge room on the second story set atop a very steep log staircase in the great room, and next to the upstairs lounge behind a false wall is a dusty attic crawlspace criss-crossed with gangplanks. it's a very magnificent, very beautiful lodge during the daytime, naturally well-lit thanks to the many vast windows in the building. while cleaning the lodge i greatly enjoy looking out the back porch towards the lake
however, the building's atmosphere quickly changes once the sun sinks below the horizon. the rooms that were previously bathed in the sun's light quickly dim to a profound darkness, the light of the moon serving to faintly illumine the edges and corners of objects while offering no real clarity. the ceiling fixtures offer a sterile, clinical light that only deepens the pitch blackness of the many windows, making the lodge seem almost as though it floats alone in some ethereal void. the empty eyes of the stuffed moose in the great room seem malicious in this light, as though i disturbed him from a long rest with my very presence. from the first time i cleaned this building at night it always felt strange, but for the first two years i just figured i was being a chicken and ignored the feeling. i did, however, notice that certain doors i had definitely shut previously would be open again after going to a different part of the building, or most offputtingly, the light at the top of the staircase would turn on despite me not going up there yet (the only switch is on the top floor.) sometimes when turning corners or looking down hallways i could swear there were faces just turning away as i approached, but nothing would ever be there when checked.
all these things could be easily excused by a poor memory or tricks of the mind, but one late evening when i was cleaning the lodge something happened that i could not readily explain away. i was mopping the great room and my back was to the staircase. returning to the kitchen to rinse the mop, i turn back and notice that damned light at the top of the staircase was on again and i was absolutely certain it hadn't been just moments ago. just as i began mopping again there was a thunderous pounding of footsteps from the upstairs lounge that had pierced the silence like a knife, the sounds of footfall exactly like a fully grown man sprinting at full speed across the floor. with my heart in my throat i let out a terrified shriek and dropped everything as i got the hell out of that building as fast as possible, making a mad dash for my boss's house just down the road. i yelled and slammed my fists on his door, looking backwards at the lodge expecting to see someone or something in pursuit but finding nothing in the darkness. understandably he answered rather upset with the force of my knocking, but i quickly apologized and explained myself while trying to regain my breath and composure. at that point we were the only two people on the entire 120 acre property, so he came with me back to the lodge with shotgun in hand. as you might expect there was no sign of anything amiss, all except the door to the upstairs lounge hanging ajar. since that day i refuse to clean that building at night and intentionally plan my schedule to clean that building only during the daytime. i also learned that my boss had several strange experiences in that building as well which made me feel slightly less schizophrenic
the second is much shorter and a lot less mystifying since i'm pretty sure it was just some sort of half-waking delusion. before we built the barn that currently stands in the pasture there was only a small eight-foot-square wall tent that we stored hay in to keep it dry. it was a makeshift building and constructed rather poorly, having a flap in the tarps as a door for quite some time before i got tired of the flap getting stuck in the snow and framed a proper door for it. because the pasture houses were open at this time with only a fence acting as protection i would have to sleep in the hay tent if we had suspicions of predators in the area, and such a time came as there was a group of coyotes crying very loudly in the night and we were very worried about the flock. for about a week i slept in that hay tent with a shotgun at my side, often falling in and out of sleep while trying to stay somewhat alert for any activity. one evening in the dead middle of the night i was abruptly awoken by a loud scraping noise at the door, and what sounded like very loud panting or snarling. from a small gap at the top of the door i could very clearly see two menacing red eyes staring down into the tent, and as the scratching and snarling continued i yelled loudly for the thing to leave while reaching for my gun and raising it towards the door; however, i felt petrified with fear and was worried that if i missed i could've very easily shot my livestock on accident since they were just beyond the door as well. in short order i mustered up the courage to kick open the door and all that met me was the slitted pupils of my goats staring confusedly at my headlamp. to this day i have absolutely no idea if i was actually awake and this was some sort of paranoid delusion or if it was some sort of dream that felt very real, but i've often had the same nightmare of a wolf attacking me in that pasture both before and after that incident so i'm not really sure what that means