ttorfilmer
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I know I will probably catch a lot of flak for this story, but I only recently told it to one person (Who ironically isn’t speaking to me anymore. Who would’ve thought?) This occurred 3 years ago and as much as I wish it wasn’t, this is a true story. I swear.
I had recently began reading on John Titor. The story honestly seemed real enough to me, but I still wasn’t sure. I had prayed for some sign that this was real. Any sign. Most people know I have insomnia. I get 2-3 hours of sleep every 2 days. Honestly I function this way. So naturally, I get bored easily. I would sneak out of my bedroom window and walk around outside looking at the night life. Living in the mountains in the dead of winter, let’s just say the night life is dead. This night, I was going to look at the stars and hopefully catch the sunrise. I layed down on the cold grass outside and watched what was a glorious night sky. To this day, I haven’t seen so many stars. Suddenly, some began to swirl sort of like a toilet when it’s flushed. I figured I was getting sleepy, and decided to head in. A red pickup was sitting in the driveway.
To this day, I don’t recall a really good memory of what the man behind the wheel looked like. I remember he was wearing a hat and sunglasses. He had five o clock shadow which I figured meant he had been travelling a while. He was Caucasian. That’s literally all I can remember. I thought he was either a drunk, or one dumb burglar. I lived in that kind of neighborhood. I slowly approached the truck and he rolled down the hand crank window.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Not yet,” he replied opening the door. “Get in.”
“Yeah right,” I said and began to back away. He jerked me into the truck cab and slammed the door. I struggled. “HEY ASSHOLE WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” I remember hearing a dial turn and seeing a flash of bright light. My body felt as if it was on fire. I felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside out. I closed my eyes and prayed it would all end soon.
When I woke, I was on the coast. I had been there several times before and often wished to live there. The strange man opened my door and led me outside. I was so disoriented. The sky was a different color of blue. In a way, it was greyish. Some things around me looked toasted. He walked me to a Tiki bar on the coast.
“I brought you here to show you what life will be like. You are a good friend to me,” he said.
“A good friend? I don’t even know your name.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” he replied smiling. I looked at the man behind the counter. It was….my grandpa. I turned to see my parents at the cash register. The mystery man turned me around just in time to see a man with a walking stick arm in arm with a female friend of mine walking down the coast. I staggered back.
“Oh God, I’m dead. This must be some kind of Purgatory.” I started rambling and he calmed me down.
“Relax kid,” he said. “This is the future should you choose this path. I know you’re happy here.” I stood just staring at everything. This had to be a joke. All of it. I was nauseous. All I wanted was to go home. I never saw the face of the man with the walking stick. He walked up and embraced the mystery man.
“So, you brought him here again because?”
“He needed motivation, just like you did.” The man with the stick laughed. I had heard that laugh before but couldn’t place it. The mystery man suddenly took my arm.
“Time for us to go,” he said. I sat in the truck and braced myself this time as the light took over. Everything got real dark real fast. Next thing I knew, the guy was shaking me awake. Pain shot up my leg and I gripped it in agony.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“I have a deteriorating ankle,” I replied. “Nothing the doctors can do.”
“Hate to break it to you, but it gets worse.” He said. I thought back to the man with the stick. There was no way. I simply shrugged it off.
“Look, there’s no way in hell I’m going to believe this in the morning. Got any proof that you were here?” He handed me a 1776-1976 bicentennial quarter. I climbed out of his truck thankful to be home, and climbed into bed waiting for the dream to end.
The next morning, I woke up with the quarter in my hand.
Honestly, I don’t believe the story myself and I experienced it. I don’t expect any of you to believe me and that’s ok. I just felt that it finally needed to be told. An update however since these past three years have gone.
My grandfather and his new wife began making chili sauce that sells very well locally. They are considering retirement on the coast and opening a restaurant. They’ve asked my family to come along.
My female friend in the dream is now my fiancée. I love her with everything in me.
My leg has indeed gotten worse. I whittled a stick to walk around with in case it gets worse. Just for fun, at the top of the stick, the numbers 177 are etched. Will I ever find out who John Titor is? Hell I’m not sure the guy I met was even him. If this wasn’t a dream. I’m not sure. Again, just telling the story. Feel free to comment. Though I wish not to be harassed. Questions I won’t answer: Who is this man? Where do you live? Who’s your family? Sorry, some things I have to keep to myself.
I had recently began reading on John Titor. The story honestly seemed real enough to me, but I still wasn’t sure. I had prayed for some sign that this was real. Any sign. Most people know I have insomnia. I get 2-3 hours of sleep every 2 days. Honestly I function this way. So naturally, I get bored easily. I would sneak out of my bedroom window and walk around outside looking at the night life. Living in the mountains in the dead of winter, let’s just say the night life is dead. This night, I was going to look at the stars and hopefully catch the sunrise. I layed down on the cold grass outside and watched what was a glorious night sky. To this day, I haven’t seen so many stars. Suddenly, some began to swirl sort of like a toilet when it’s flushed. I figured I was getting sleepy, and decided to head in. A red pickup was sitting in the driveway.
To this day, I don’t recall a really good memory of what the man behind the wheel looked like. I remember he was wearing a hat and sunglasses. He had five o clock shadow which I figured meant he had been travelling a while. He was Caucasian. That’s literally all I can remember. I thought he was either a drunk, or one dumb burglar. I lived in that kind of neighborhood. I slowly approached the truck and he rolled down the hand crank window.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Not yet,” he replied opening the door. “Get in.”
“Yeah right,” I said and began to back away. He jerked me into the truck cab and slammed the door. I struggled. “HEY ASSHOLE WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” I remember hearing a dial turn and seeing a flash of bright light. My body felt as if it was on fire. I felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside out. I closed my eyes and prayed it would all end soon.
When I woke, I was on the coast. I had been there several times before and often wished to live there. The strange man opened my door and led me outside. I was so disoriented. The sky was a different color of blue. In a way, it was greyish. Some things around me looked toasted. He walked me to a Tiki bar on the coast.
“I brought you here to show you what life will be like. You are a good friend to me,” he said.
“A good friend? I don’t even know your name.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” he replied smiling. I looked at the man behind the counter. It was….my grandpa. I turned to see my parents at the cash register. The mystery man turned me around just in time to see a man with a walking stick arm in arm with a female friend of mine walking down the coast. I staggered back.
“Oh God, I’m dead. This must be some kind of Purgatory.” I started rambling and he calmed me down.
“Relax kid,” he said. “This is the future should you choose this path. I know you’re happy here.” I stood just staring at everything. This had to be a joke. All of it. I was nauseous. All I wanted was to go home. I never saw the face of the man with the walking stick. He walked up and embraced the mystery man.
“So, you brought him here again because?”
“He needed motivation, just like you did.” The man with the stick laughed. I had heard that laugh before but couldn’t place it. The mystery man suddenly took my arm.
“Time for us to go,” he said. I sat in the truck and braced myself this time as the light took over. Everything got real dark real fast. Next thing I knew, the guy was shaking me awake. Pain shot up my leg and I gripped it in agony.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“I have a deteriorating ankle,” I replied. “Nothing the doctors can do.”
“Hate to break it to you, but it gets worse.” He said. I thought back to the man with the stick. There was no way. I simply shrugged it off.
“Look, there’s no way in hell I’m going to believe this in the morning. Got any proof that you were here?” He handed me a 1776-1976 bicentennial quarter. I climbed out of his truck thankful to be home, and climbed into bed waiting for the dream to end.
The next morning, I woke up with the quarter in my hand.
Honestly, I don’t believe the story myself and I experienced it. I don’t expect any of you to believe me and that’s ok. I just felt that it finally needed to be told. An update however since these past three years have gone.
My grandfather and his new wife began making chili sauce that sells very well locally. They are considering retirement on the coast and opening a restaurant. They’ve asked my family to come along.
My female friend in the dream is now my fiancée. I love her with everything in me.
My leg has indeed gotten worse. I whittled a stick to walk around with in case it gets worse. Just for fun, at the top of the stick, the numbers 177 are etched. Will I ever find out who John Titor is? Hell I’m not sure the guy I met was even him. If this wasn’t a dream. I’m not sure. Again, just telling the story. Feel free to comment. Though I wish not to be harassed. Questions I won’t answer: Who is this man? Where do you live? Who’s your family? Sorry, some things I have to keep to myself.
