Food for thought
ALTERNATE HISTORIES
I’ve been mulling over this one for a while now...
Over the years, I’ve noticed that certain things I remember don’t seem to match what I recall happening at the time. For instance, certain stories which were accepted as being true are now said to be just stories or perhaps the timing of certain events aren’t quite right or the names of certain things aren’t what you remember them to be.
I’ve had this happen several times and while it’s fair to say that my memory isn’t always the best, I am not at the Alzheimer’s stage either.
I’d thought I’d share a couple of the things I’ve noticed. Perhaps you’ve experiences similar things in your own life.
Wuthering Heights – Kate Bush
Based on the book, this debut song by Kate Bush was a major hit in the UK and Australia back in 1978. I remember when I first heard it I said, I prefer the original. The original I had heard a few times back in 1975 when I had gone to bed and used to listen to my radio. It was sung by another female artist who had a heavier and clearer voice.
Until this year (2006) I from time to time tried to get that original version. Then I finally did a bit of research on the song itself. (Only took me 30 odd years to get around to it. Go me!) I discovered that not only was it written by Kate Bush, but it was written well after I remembered hearing it. (Certainly no earlier than 1976 and more likely around 1977.) So clearly, it was impossible for me to have heard it, but I am quite sure that I did, especially as my memory was exceptional when I was younger.
Hanging Rock – Woodend, Victoria, Australia (As noted elsewhere on this site.)
This is a strange place anyway, with its magnetic anomalies and all, and I’ve had a few interesting experiences there.
Back in the late 80s early 90s, I used to go up there a lot with a friend of mine. For some reason or another, I was attracted to the place and as I said, I’ve had some odd experiences there.
One night we drove up there and the trip was uneventful as it normally was. It wasn't until we started to drive up the road leading to Hanging Rock that I began to feel that something wasn't quiet right. Yes, of course it was dark and all, but the road almost didn't seem to be real. I don't quiet know how to explain it, but my friend felt it too.
Then somehow we missed the gates to the rock. The gates themselves are large and hard to miss, so that was odd within itself. Soon came across a dirt road instead of the sealed one we were driving on. It took me by surprise since I had come a lot further than I thought I had. In fact, I went straight through a give way sign.
"Oh well done," said my friend, "But, I suppose it's late."
"I didn't think that we'd come this far," I said. "Did we pass the gates?"
"We have, but I didn't see them. Nor did I see the sign saying 100 meters to Hanging Rock. This is the dirt track that I once went up with some other friends. We went up it three time and we still couldn't find the gates."
We drove on for a bit and I decided to turn back since the road didn't seem to be going anywhere of interest and my friend was feeling a bit uneasy about continuing. So I drove back and up towards another road called Straws Lane where Gravity Hill was.
The night was mild, the moon was waning, but it still shone plenty of light, and it wasn't windy. But all this changed as we approached the very top of the hill. Suddenly a bitterly cold gale force wind rocked the car, making whistling noises. The sky became pitch black all around the area, except when you looked directly up, it was clear. And a fine rain fell upon my windscreen.
Not that this was really an unusual occurrence for a place that seemed to have cars roll up the hill rather than down, but it did seem a bit more extreme than usual. After a few minutes, we just decided to go back and find the gates to the rock.
We found them on the way back and they were closed. There were times when they were left open, and we’d go in and climb the rock.
"Want to see if the other side is closed too?" asked my friend. "Yes," I replied. So I drove up back up to Straws Lane and turned down the next road which was the other side off the rock.
However, there was something totally wrong about it.
"This is a dirt track. It should be a sealed road," I said.
"I know, go on, continue up it."
I saw the sign that said Hanging Rock Tourist Road, and soon after we came across the gates on the other side
As I drove down the road that led from the gates to Woodend, I saw a car coming towards us. It then turned some distance from us and disappeared. About 200 hundred meters later, I got the where the car had turned. Now I've been up that road many times. It's a straight road with barely any turn-offs. And my friend, who'd been there countless times, would agree with that.
"Left turn, Gary," he said.
I stared incredulously at the road. "There is no ‘T’ intersection on this road," I stated.
"I know," he simply said.
"So why is there one now? And what road was the car on that was coming towards us?"
I turned to the left and the soon made a right hand turn and found myself on the proper road again.
Somehow, the geography of the area had changed, and what was more interesting, only me and my friend remembered the road being straight. The other people I asked who would sometimes come up there with us remembered it as being a T-Intersection.
And while on the subject, I remember when the movie Picnic at Hanging Rock was made, it was said to be based on true events that occurred back in the early 1900s where three school girls and a teacher disappeared at a school outing.
Even one of my friend’s Grandmother remembered it, though the theory at the time was that the girls had just went off with some boys.
Upon some recent research, the book was deemed to be fiction and the events it was based on were said to never have taken place.
Of course, there are never any satisfactory answers as to what or why such events happen. I know I’m certainly not the only one who experiences it, though.
One possibility that presents itself to me, especially the night after I asked for answers, was found in Neale Donald Waslch’s book, Home with God, which I decided to pick up and read. I have been doing that on and off since it came out some months ago.
It mentions that when you die and you decide that you still have things to do, you can choose to return to an alternative, but almost identical timeline where the events that lead to your death didn’t actually happen or you managed to survive it.
This might also explain some odd times when I’ve survived what should have killed me but didn’t.
An example of this was when, in my ignorant youth, I took the cover of a double adapter and plugged it into the wall. I ended up with a mild shock, but it was more unpleasant than anything. I might be wrong, but I sometimes wonder if a 240 volt shock should have been enough to kill me. I sometimes give thought to it from time to time as to why it didn’t have any effect on me.
If anyone has had similar experiences or their own slant on things, I’d love to hear about them.
