Thread 24656790

when I was a kid walking to primary school, a man in a car pulled up beside me and told me not to go to school that day. I took that advice and have always assumed it was a time traveller warning me about a traumatic event or something similar that was meant to happen but looking back that whole day is a blank and he probably bummed me in that car and I've just repressed that memory

It was midwinter in the mountains, and the rain was coming down hard. Too wet to work, and too poor to drink, Shane put us to work on clearing the boxes and shelves of the Cobhouse's great attic. To treat our shivers we tried a fire, but the wood was too wet, and we only managed to smoke up the house.

Beneath a box we found a vial containing a dark thick liquid. When we showed it Shane he laughed and said, "That's Bellas old medicine. It's THC. I got it from the White Witch." Bella was the farm's golden retriever, now just an ancient chunk of flesh who slept twenty hours a day. "So she doesn't need it?" We asked. Shane said no.

Thus we decided our need was greater. Hidden away in the kitchen, whispering in chaste schoolgirl voices, we undip the stopper and dropped two, three, six drops of the tar-like oil into our mouths. It tasted like resin; it stuck to our teeth. Three hours later, still disappointingly sober, I snuck away and took six more.

It hit me at dinner. All of a sudden I couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't conceive of conception, couldn't articulate my issue, and was annihilated of all motivations other than one: to get back to our cottage, and safely into bed. I excused myself from the table, my voice is slurry of syllables, and trundled, feeling freshly-born, and unbearably sheepish, toward the door, and went outside into the pouring rain.

I instantaneously forgot everything — who I was, where I was, the concept of language, the concept of concepts, my entire history, the entire memory of memory. I was nothing but a single point of feeling in a dark well of indescribable size and silence and cold. I shivered in that darkness for a thousand years, a measureless stretch, even if I had the concept of time. After a hundred years of cold confusion I felt a piece of something known come back to me. It was a name. In time I recognised it as my own. Then, climbing the strand of name toward the first figment of my childhood, I, with immense effort, pulled myself upon that rope of remembrance toward the recollection of my life, and ultimately to the point in which I was: standing in the rain, on the precipice of the Cobhouse.

I suspect I had a stroke. I never felt the same.

>>24656790 (OP)
Many such cases, especially with alien abductions which often are traumatic events in disguise.

It was midwinter in the mountains, and the rain was coming down hard. Too wet to work, and too poor to drink, Shane put us to work on clearing the boxes and shelves of the Cobhouse's great attic. To treat our shivers we tried a fire, but the wood was too wet, and we only managed to smoke up the house.

Beneath a box we found a vial containing a dark thick liquid. When we showed it Shane he laughed and said, "That's Bellas old medicine. It's THC. I got it from the White Witch." Bella was the farm's golden retriever, now just an ancient chunk of flesh who slept twenty hours a day. "So she doesn't need it?" We asked. Shane said no.

Thus we decided our need was greater. Hidden away in the kitchen, whispering in chaste schoolgirl voices, we undip the stopper and dropped two, three, six drops of the tar-like oil into our mouths. It tasted like resin; it stuck to our teeth. Three hours later, still disappointingly sober, I snuck away and took six more.

It hit me at dinner. All of a sudden I couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't conceive of conception, couldn't articulate my issue, and was annihilated of all motivations other than one: to get back to our cottage, and safely into bed. I excused myself from the table, my voice a slurry of syllables, and trundled, feeling freshly-born and unbearably sheepish, toward the door, and went outside into the pouring rain.

I instantaneously forgot everything — who I was, where I was, the concept of language, the concept of concepts, my entire history, the entire memory of memory. I was nothing but a single point of feeling in a dark well of indescribable size and silence and cold. I shivered in that darkness for a thousand years, a measureless stretch, even if I had the concept of time. After a hundred years of cold confusion I felt a piece of something known come back to me. It was a name. In time I recognised it as my own. Then, climbing the strand of name up toward the first figment of my childhood, I, with an indescribable effort unmatched by any other in my life, pulled myself upon that rope of remembrance toward the recollection of my memory, and ultimately to the point in which I was, a thousand years later and yet a second: standing in the rain on the precipice of the Cobhouse.

I suspect I had a stroke. I never felt the same.

When i was a kid the teacher would leave the room and my class mates would hit me in the head and call me names. I have more fun stories.

>>24656790 (OP)
When i was a kid in the 2nd grade, i loved learning multiplication and division, I loved solving problems and asking my fellow students questions about the problems and vice versa. During the last few days of school my teacher said we were going to have a huge math tournament for a prize on the last day, i was estatic, as were all of my classmates. The last day of school arrives and the first thing I ask my teacher is when are we having the tournament, she brushed me off, and told me to sit. She then gets into explaining other maths weve already learned. After about 30 minutes another kid asks when are the tournaments, she brushed him off too. A little more than an hour later(classes were 2 hours) and we have about 10 minutes left of class, I stood up and asked, angrily, if we would even have tournament. She saw my anger and responded in kind, yelling at me to sit and not speak again, I listened. Ive hated women and math ever since.

basado. we need do more "tell-a-yarn" type-thread type-post type shit.

>>24656790 (OP)
I had an experience in 4th grade where i was playing in the city playground and some lady with wild 80s hair, likely was 19, told me to stop harassing children and their mothers. Probably a feminist. It was 1992 i think. I started crying and told my mom about it and I forgot what happened next. Fast forward to 1993 and i hear about the Lorena Bobbit case. I've hated women ever since.

>>24656855
ill share a more recent one: In december, last year. I was sitting on a bench downtown, in front of a restaurant, listening to old sorrowful country music. It was cold, and dark, and im sitting there watching people live their lives, as i like to do at times. While im doing this i feel someone tap my shoulder, and it's this young indian or mexican girl, no older than me(early 20s, looked like picrel), she stands up straight, smiles and waves at me. She starts to say something but notices my earbuds and stops and waves again, goodbye this time. Standing behind her were a group of white girls and another indian/mexican all huddled up and talking to each other. She goes back to this group and they wander off. I dont what she wanted but i do think back on her smile at times.

>>24656855
>>24656871
FREUD: *Puffs pipe* Do you entertain dreams or fantasies about having sex with your mother?

>>24656925
I'm petting my dick right now, he's very happy and full of energy, he loves that photo anon

I used to dabble in psychedelics. One time, it didn't really seem to wear off. I figured I just needed some rest and recovery. Unfortunately, it precipitated what I would now describe as a manic episode. Perhaps even a skitzo breakdown of sorts. Yet indescribably mystical and enlightening, at least now with benefit of time and medicine. I felt dhyana or maybe even samadhi or nirvana like bliss and particularly energy through spine as per the proverbial kundalini of the hindu tantriks. Anyhow, as time progressed, rather than feel less trippy I began to feel more trippy. I suspected I may be going insane. But w stunted rationality I could not sense my irrationality. Therefore, I theorized that I was either achieving a sort of eastern nondual enlightenment state or perhaps being dosed w LSD by government agents or some such. I actually quit all drugs during this time. Was wise. I also realized that ultimately despite my oriental flavoured thoughts, that all reality was ultimately Christian in truth, and in an advaitic way, I was searchign for a truth and salvation that was dialetheisticallly both absolutely transcendent and purely immanent. At least of ethics. I signed up for crazy classes the following semester. I asked my girlfriend to marry me and we broke up. I met a witch who taught me tarot and astrology and herbalism. Had a number of dreams which I can only describe as prophetic or precognitive sensory somehow. Dreams began to melt into waking life. Waking life began to melt into dream. I felt as though constantly lucidly dreaming. Was able to visualize to the degree described by astral projectionist of ye olde theosophical society. Wrote a number of essays at this point but destroyed them later alas. Despite positive beginnings, however, ended poorly. Spent around a year in this state before wellness checked into a psych ward. I stopped going to classes and eating at some point. I suppose my family was very concerned. Hallucinations, auditory, visual, and tactile became incredibly common. I developed a sense of synaesthesia. Or maybe it was some hypersensitive affectivity receptivity. I felt as though I could see auras. And detect patterns which I can now barely understand the outlines. Time seemed a fractal in many ways. But toward the end there was also great paranoia. I felt as though gangstalked. I thought certain individuals were time travelers observing me. I began to see reptilians.

I was put in the psych ward for being "incoherent". Spent two weeks. Medicine killed all spirituality for a while. Made me incredibly depressed actually at first. Yet. Twas my most formative experience in many ways. No regrets now. Plus it has subsidized my NEEThood for these number of years by qualifying me for disability so that's cool...

>>24656995
One time i took bars and acid at the same time. I happened to be a drug dealer in a bad neighborhood so i had bars on my front door and wpuld lock peoole in to stay the night. I gave my friend some acid and he starts panicking and wants to leave. I tgink he's trying to rob me so i dont let him out. I kept going through these cycles where he was convincing me to let him out and i would say no and forgdt abd have the same conversations 10 times. Finally he's suddenly gone. I had let him out and he walked like 7 miles home.

What precipitated this was i tried to sleep but felt like i had an explosion in my brain and there was shattered glass bouncing around in my skull.
I also suddently notice i have a gun in my hand and im trying to give it to my buddy and he's freaking the fuck out. I had that glass in my brain sensation for several years afterward.
One problem with psychs is i think you can get hyperfixated on thoughts you usually push out and it breaks you. The mind is complex and o habe a theory many people have a certain amount of trauma.

i walked out from the wedding celebration and upstairs to the dark observation deck and stood in front of a bank of floor to ceiling windows just looking at the house lights across the bay when i realized a small group of people in the parking lot noticed my silhouette and i raised my hand in a slow wave and a woman waved back

>>24657388
Strange and beautiful image.

>>24656790 (OP)
What good will that do?

Once I climbed on top of a stationary train car and just sat there for like 30 minutes, thinking about life.

>>24656842
Pretty cool read, I experienced something similar on edibles.

>>24656995
Sounds pretty fun I'm ngl

>>24656842

i enjoyed this! some of the repetition can be edited down but really nice

>>24656790 (OP)
Since so many people are talking about their experience on drugs I'll put my weirdest.

Oddly enough, it didn't happen while on psychedelics --- I took a couple THC edibles, adding up to maybe around 100mg. Prior to the point I'm about to talk about I was very experienced with them, and nothing like this had happened before then.

This happened in June. I was in the basement watching shit on YouTube, and I realized I had to take a piss really bad. My parents were still walking around upstairs though so I ended up going through one of the downstairs doors to go in the backyard.

I love bugs. I usually make it a point to spot bugs when I go outside, and I did like usual that night. But the world felt different. Whenever I looked at them under the light of my flashlight, they looked kind of unreal. But that's not the full picture --- I felt unreal. I felt like I had been absorbed into a horror game of sorts, but it wasn't scary. It felt like just that: A game.

That's the buildup, now here's what I remember the experience for --- I made my way over to the shed, saw some bugs on it, shined my light, and it completely broke my brain. It was the biggest mindfuck of my life. My sense of reality was completely knocked off base, and I just stood there shaking. There was a black and white flash in my head, and it felt like my consciousness was knocked out of my body for a second.

I have never been able to replicate this feeling, but I kinda want to lol

>>24656790 (OP)
When I was in kindergarden I had just moved to a new school in Florida and a black girl named Daja put her palm around my neck and asked me if I liked being choked in the bathroom. Pretty sure she was getting molested by her dad or something. She was fat too so it wasn't hot or anything, jut weird.

>>24656842
>Cobhouse

>>24656929
No, not that I can say, Dr. Freud. In fact I prefer women the opposite of my mom

When I was a dumpling I used to do this thing with my pencil. With its rubber-end planted against my schooldesk, I would push against it with all my weight until my chair's front feet left the floor, and I became half suspended, teetering on the chair's back two legs. It felt thrilling to have all my weight fulcrumed upon such a little point.

One day, I'm not sure exactly what happened, perhaps the rubber slipped, perhaps the pencil broke, but one day I managed to drive the tip of the pencil directly into my penis with such force that a piece of lead pierced my jeans and broke off inside of me, just at the lower root of my penis stem. I instantly excused myself and ran to the bathroom so that I could inspect what had happened. I saw the little bloodless entry wound, and I saw the murky dark bullet of lead a centimetre inside of me. I never told a soul. To this day, I firmly believe that this lead-poisoning incident is what caused my organ to be so small and miscoloured. Everyone needs an excuse right. C'est la vie.

>>24659310
Something similar happened to me as a child, but the pencil tip broke off in my face, just below the eye. First off, pencil lead isnt lead, it's graphite. Second, you need more than that to get poisoning, like breathing in leaded gasoline fumes for years. Third, my body, and I'm sure yours too, completely dissolved the graphite after a few years.

>>24659338
Yes, you're right. But what about my strange and shrunken penis?

DURANTE LA MISA FUNERAL DE MI MADRE, SALÍ A EL ATRIO DE EL TEMPLO PARA FUMAR UN CIGARRO; SENTEME EN EL BORDE DE UNA MACETERA.

UNOS NIÑOS ESTABAN JUGANDO MÁS ALLÁ, ENTRE ELLOS, UNA NIÑA DE NO MÁS DE CUATRO AÑOS DE EDAD; LA NIÑA VIOME DESDE LEJOS, Y VINO CORRIENDO HASTA LA MACETERA EN LA QUE ESTABA YO SENTADO.

LA NIÑA ESCONDÍASE DETRÁS DE UN ARBUSTO, Y ASOMABA LA CARA, SONRIENDO, Y SALUDÁNDOME CON SU MANO; ESA HA SIDO LA ÚNICA VEZ EN MI VIDA EN LA QUE ALGUIEN FUE ATRAÍDO POR EL HUMO DE MI CIGARRO, EN VEZ DE REPELIDO.

>>24659343
if you are Irish this is normal

>>24659803
I'm spiritually Hibernian. Unfortunately the rest of me is Bengali. My body is covered with 100 crore bumps and boils from the everlasting rubbish dump infernos.

I was molested in a public bathroom at a park when I was five years old by a middle aged Mexican man. I entered the stall and pulled down my pants to the ankles and lifted my shirt with both hands above my nipples. I turned around in the same position hearing him come in the stall behind me, thinking it was my cousin who took me to the park. He was holding a beer in one hand and as he knelt down he set it on the ground next to me. I was shocked so I was still just holding my shirt up with both hands and staring at him. He started rubbing my hips and bum. He wouldn't look me in the eyes, just stared at my penis. He moved his hands all over my torso at that point, thumbing my nipples. I could feel the calluses at the base of his fingers in his palm running all over my body. Finally he cupped my penis and testicles and looked up at me. I screamed. He ran out of the bathroom knocking over his beer that puddled around my feet and I stood in it for a while before for some reason peeing on the floor into it. I left the bathroom crying and my cousin asked what happened. I just said someone scared me in the bathroom.

>>24659839
five years old. dios mio. how has this affected you?

>>24659847
I masturbate to tranny porn sometimes.

>>24659847
Oh and I didn't use a public bathroom to poop for like ten years.

>>24659610
>espanol
Can't read, don't care

>>24656855
>math tournament for a prize on the last day, i was estatic, as were all of my classmates
The fuck? Either you're all autists or you're Chinese.

>>24659839
Nonwhites are rapists. The amount of children that could be saved if everyone were told this.

My old school was going through tough times and part of it had to be sold. They tore it down to build condos and for legal reasons the school had to be evacuated for two days in case rubble fell. The construction company paid for two school trips: one to a beach town for sailing, the other to an amusement park. I was twelve at the time.
Arriving at the beach town, we stopped at an all-you can-eat-buffet. Most kids were ecstatic, but I, a skinny, quiet, and perpetually anxious boy, barely ate. Nothing much happened there, except my usual nerves.
Outside, the sky had been darkening since morning. By the time we reached the harbor it was heavy with clouds. The teachers conferred with the boat captains for a while. Whatever their reasoning was, they decided to rush onto the sailboats and try to sail for a bit before the storm broke. My class and another boarded a boat with a teacher I didn't know and our math teacher: a small, thin woman in her early thirties, amiable, with blonde-dyed, neck-length hair and glasses.
Not long after we left the harbor, the rain began. The storm followed.
As it started to pour and the winds got strong, all of us kids were herded into the cabin, as were the adults. It was pretty cramped in there. The door and the windows gave us a clear view of what was happening out there and I purposefully stood near it, having always been fond of rain, darkened skies and storms. Watching one from a boat was a novel experience. There was another novelty, too.
My teacher had refused to leave the deck.
She stood completely alone there, tall among the wind and the rain, soaking wet and smiling. More at home in the deluge than most are anywhere. For minutes on end she did not move, before finally relenting and coming to join us. Her hair and clothes clung to her thin frame as she calmly moved, water dripping in her wake. The captain hurried to fetch towels. She was in no rush, drying herself calmly and unbothered, still smiling beneath the towel draped over her head. Completely at peace while the captain and the other teacher, an unremarkable woman, ogled her as if she were mad.
Nothing else happened until we reached the beach. Ours was the last boat to arrive. We drove back to the school and, soon, the storm ended.
I can't remember her face, her voice or her lessons. The next year I had a new teacher, a dry and cynical woman to whom standing amidst a storm would certainly seem like utter foolishness, and who quickly killed any fondness I had for math.
Of my old teacher, I can't even recall her name. But I will always remember how she felt, among the waves and the storm.
Free.

Next door to my apartment lived a married couple. I got along okay with them, but I would sometimes hear the man scream at his woman, accusing her of infidelity, while she calmly denied everything.
It came to a head eventually, where he tried to come home and she wouldn't let him in. I heard him ask for his wallet at least, and she opened a window and passed it to him. Peaceful times at the apartment complex for a couple of weeks.
I came back from work one Friday, and there was a moving truck there, with him and his friends moving stuff out. I assumed they had split and divorced; whatever, happens all the time.
A little bit later, I heard a banging sound against the wall, and him saying "you think you..." and then muffled talk. I was confused and thought he was mad at me for some reason, since he was banging on the wall next to my living room, and a lot of the tenants hated me because I talked in my sleep (I didn't figure this out until years later; different story).
Weeks pass by, maintenance and decorators come by and change the carpet and flooring in the apartment; so I guess the woman moved out too.
Days later, the maintenance man comes by to fix my A/C. I ask if my place was going to get remodeled, and he said it was only that one apartment because it was left in a really bad state; holes in the wall, wrecked appliances, blood on the carpet. He said the cops had to be called about it, and then he got real cagey and changed the subject.
That night, while going to sleep, I woke up and realized I had heard someone get beaten to death.

>>24660673
This one really deserves to have a story made out of it.

Once when I called my mother on the landline back in the early 00s I could here a child say the numbers I pressed while calling her. Just before the signal went away I heard a woman say something. I mentioned this to my mother as soon as she answered the call, but she didn't believe me.

some cracker stole my black power ranger

>>24660154
we were all white actually, we wanted prizes and liked math, a win win situation.

On the day my friend turned 21 we decided to get drunk as hell. I was 19 and couldn't handle my liquor. We took shots on the way to a local popular restaurant and i could feel myself getting drunker and drunker. And drunker. We get to the restaurant and get a table and are flirti g with some black girls at the next table. Well, my friends were. I was incoherent and somehow drunker, probably because my 19 year old liver was struggeling to process all the poson i drank.

I go to the bathroom. About 20 minutes later my buddy comes into the bathroom and finds me face down on the floor. He wakes me and brings me back to the table. I then puke all over myself and the table and just sit there. We are in a very popular and crowded restaurant/bar. Supposedly people became upset and started chanting "punch him in the face". The police were called. They showed up but didnt want to touch me as i was covered in my own puke. They told my friends to take me home. Happy birthday, marvin.

One time some cops ran me out of a small coastal bama town. Kinda sorta. Been arrested and mingled with all types.

One time we picked up this girl on the side of the road to help her cuz she had no shoes. She was a prostitute named barefoot being followed by narcotics agents froma guys house named crackhead chad. You guys probably think im making that up.
The police pullex us over and found heroin in the car and cuffex us but she claimed it.