Thursday, July 12, 2018

Weekly Roundup 7/4-7/11/18

Keeping with the weekly roundup of various notable synchronicities that I started last week, here's the next installment, from 7/4-7/11/18 (yeah, I'm a few days late on this one -- a week-and-a-half roundup, then).

* * *

First off, from the 4th, an incident that is only mildly notable in itself, but is, instead, a good example of a specific, especially subtle kind I've been seeing a lot of lately: the "everyday little thing" recurrence, where I'll encounter some random, relatively common thing in a specific, patternistic fashion and timeframe. I'll often experience a dozen or more of these over the course of a day, and all with the exact same "feel" and behavior, as to be collectively notable when seen in this context.

[It began] last night in the Indian magazine when I read, again totally offhand, [an] article about “Carvel cakes,” which I again absently-but-specifically noticed, if only because it was either the first time ever or the first in a long time I'd ever encountered this – and then today, in that super-random market I'd been Compelled to go to after lunch, another where I had absolutely zero plans to be there, I happened across a cold case with Carvel cakes in it, and this happening due to a similarly random/absent wandering about in the deli/bakery area of the store, despite needing absolutely nothing along those lines from there – again fully patternistic, however “small” and common.

Next, from the 5th, a classic "radio echoing exactly what I was writing on a piece of paper, exactly as I made to write it"-type incident.

Had another of those single, stray, coherent echoes, this time a radio/”writing a note”-type one. It started when I went to write “hope” on a note I was about to leave, and then, precisely as I started the “h,” the radio randomly/singularly/patternistically sang out “I hope,” with the “hope” corresponding perfectly both with my starting the “h” and with my random/absent thought of “hope”

From the 6th, another of the many radio-echoes I've experienced, this one of a variety involving the actions of a random, totally separate person, such that the question of my own actions/psychology/biases doesn't even factor into it.

[It happened when] "out your window" [sang] from the radio precisely as I watched as, from the car directly in front of me, the driver put an arm out the window [and] tamped a cigarette, which I registered with the thought of something like "out the window," and again perfectly patternistic/precise in timing

And, from the 7th, yet another radio incident (I know, this is starting to read like last week's post -- there's just so many of these ...).

[It happened] literally immediately as I got in the car and began backing out. It started when I looked around before backing from the driveway, which I did in a weird, exaggerated way, sort of erratically swinging around in a way that surprised me, thus causing me to absently think "weird movement looking around like that/erratic looking-around" -- just before the first words over the radio sang out "look around you," less than a second later, as to not be perfectly synchronistic but to still echo the thought as it was crossing my mind, 100% patternistic of these as it were.

And ... another, the next day, and this one included because it was, more or less, exactly like the last one, right down to the type and circumstances and my actions at the time.

It happened at the exact same time, when I began backing from the driveway, this time beginning with my then being faced with deciding where to go to church since I had time to go to either one, thus causing me to think about the two and something like "got to choose now, since I'm leaving" -- precisely as "time has come to make a choice" sang randomly/singularly from the radio, with the only difference from yesterday's incident being that, first, this one was perfectly synchronistic rather than slightly delayed, and, second, the lyrics weren't quite the first over the radio, preceded by another, brief stanza.

Okay, no more radio stuff. From the 9th:

[It happened] when I got into the car after being outside in the heat and letting it idle with the A/C on, and upon getting hit with the drastically colder, contrasting air upon getting inside, I had the automatic/absent/registering thought of something like "Wow that's cold/I'm so suddenly cold" -- precisely as the very first words to come over the radio as I got in were "I feel so cold," another classical echo.

(I lied)

For the 10th: another radio-echo here, too, but only because it was the best, most "standout-ish" incident of the day.

It happened as a work truck pulling a long two-wheel trailer pulled out in front of me, first demanding my attention since I had to slow down for it, etc, and then, precisely as the truck completed its turn-out and its trailer hit a pothole, thus causing it to bounce conspicuously and thus causing me to absently/automatically register this with a thought of something like "bouncing," the ad on the radio randomly said "bouncing houses," and again such that the "bouncing" and my instantaneous, heat-of-the-moment thought coincided in that perfect, intertwined fashion, also 100% patternistic of these.

Alright, this last one, on the 11th, is another echo-type incident, but now involving a nearby stranger and the text of a book.

Towards the end of lunch, started to have a few super-super-subtle-type of those same extremely fuzzy and indirect/fleeting echoes as I've been having, and then, just before I was done, had a cool standout. It started when I randomly came to "two to two" in the book, and Noticed this in particular, patternistically and illogically and subtly but distinctly -- a split second before a man sitting nearby randomly said, "two point two," another of those with a slight delay but less than a second, just long enough for me to distinctly Notice the "two to two" and register it, then get "smacked" with the man's reasonably precise echo of the "two twos" underlying sentiment (which also jibes with the general uptick of 22s I've still been seeing off and on the last couple weeks or so, which would continue on today here and there as well).

(And, for anyone interested in the many, many other incidents not singled out in this post: read the full, unedited log of my experiences, at

Saturday, June 30, 2018

Weekly Roundup

Check the dates, and one will see that posts on the blog have slowed.

Why? Not for want of notable synchronicities -- not by any means. Rather, there've been too many, with every day seeing at least one or two incidents notable enough to be merit a full-length post (if not a book, or two ...).

Thus, I've found myself faced with the question of, Which to post about?!?

So, rather than type my fingers to the bone trying to detail all my synchronistic adventures, I will henceforth begin a weekly roundup of highlights (either in terms of "bigness"/profundity, or as an example of a specific, repeating type of incident). Also for reasons of time and energy and finger-health, I will simply provide a brief synopsis, then quote the verbatim log entry in lieu of a full, proper explanation.

* * *

First, a wonderfully cute, and disturbingly surreal, number-related incident from June 23rd, 2018. This one is a particularly vivid example of a certain type I've been seeing a lot of lately, where, immediately after finishing my lunch, I'll encounter the number 37 (or variations thereof) in some notable, conspicuous, and patternistic capacity. As it were, I've been having these almost daily, and nearly identical in form; but that of the 23rd took it to another level of "immediacy." Log entry:
A new record for "immediately after-lunch 37-repeat," this time a "my randomly overhearing a cashier randomly quoting a 37-figure to a customer" one, now from an employee in the kitchen saying "that'll be [something] thirty-seven" to a drive-thru customer, and this coming literally *exactly* as I finished, as in perfectly synchronsitic with my swallowing the last bite of the meal, while I was still seated, etc, ha ha.
Next up, on the 24th, a prime, illustrative example of the classical "thought echo," in which my precise, independent, in-the-moment thought is instantaneously "echoed" in some form, usually by way of the car radio or similar media:
[It happened] when I passed the cardboard dumpster and thought to get out and grab some cardboard from it to cover my food bag and stuff from the sun beating in through the car's windows, but then thought "Can't stop, no time" since I was late for church -- precisely as "I can't stop" sang randomly/singularly from the radio, a classical one in every sense.
Next, another, equally demonstrative radio echo, on the afternoon of the 25th when I randomly turned on my phone to check a web page:
It started when I turned on my phone and, after waiting the few seconds for it to start up and then entering the PIN, I went to tap the icon for the "Chrome" browser -- at the absolute, precise moment the radio randomly/singularly sang out "chrome," in the context of the actual metal rather than the browswer software but still 100% precise literally, and again so ridiculously perfect/intertwined in correlation with my moving to tap the icon and absently/reactively/automatically thinking "tap Chrome now."
Now ... another radio echo. Because, every day, I always have at least one or two (or ten). From the afternoon of the 26th, while rummaging through spice packets in the supermarket:
Another "striking one-word" radio/reading echo at the market, when I pulled up the packet of star anise and thus revealed the big "STAR ANISE" on the label, which I registered particularly because I was looking for the packets of normal anise mixed in, and so had to pay particular attention to whether it was labeled with the "star anise" or just plain "anise," as to take particular notice of the "star" as to make it stand out from the "anise" portion -- precisely as the radio sang out "stars," and this too another of those striking, flawlessly intertwined kind as opposed to the looser, "lazier," "quieter" subtles
And, heck, why not another? This one, however, is of a different, subtler sub-type, "smaller" and simpler in nature, yet no less surreal and notable for it. These, I will often experience a dozen or more times over the course of several hours. From the 27th:
[...]It started when I suddenly remembered to check the mailbox for that letter Mom had sent, thus causing me to absently/automatically think something like "Mom's mail," followed by general thoughts of her -- just before the radio randomly/singularly sang out "Your mother" [...]
Okay, time to change things up, with a lovely little text wall that contains one of the most profound (and messily described) incidents to date. This one was of a kind that I've experienced before, which I've dubbed the "affirmative," where the pattern goes as follows: after my suddenly and randomly experiencing some specific, meaningful life event that brings about personal growth or expansion in some way, I will, a very short time afterward, read something that not only directly echoes that experience, but also affirms that experience in some way, with the affirmation always arising in the most conspicuously random and fully unconnected of forms. That of the 28th, however, trumped even the most-notable of those prior (which becomes evident if you can stomach the rambling stream-of-thought account):
Next up, during lunchtime reading, came the highlight of the day, and probably the "biggest" and most singularly notable incident to date, perhaps one of the biggest ever despite its highly subjective nature. It was another of those enormous, multithreaded, multilayered/multidimensional "affirmative personal-thematic"-type of clusters that I've seen before, spanning the whole of lunchtime reading more or less, but this one excelled previous ones somewhat, due as much to its sheer complexity and precision and notability, and also in its equally notable context/circumstances and its explicit patternistic element. This one not only fit the "affirmative/randomly reading about the exact same meaningful realization I'd just had"-type of pattern, to a T, but it involved realizations that I had *this very morning,* and in no uncertain terms/nothing vague or fuzzy or indirect about it -- a direct, explicit echoing, and of multiple elements/dimensions, in the same context and terms and everything. It all started this morning when I had a big, morning-long battle with trying to silence my mind, particularly that nearly involuntary/automatic/ridiculously strong "background static" mental commentary that will jump up and vocalize/categorize/"logicalize" my thoughts and feelings and general experience, and just pretty much distort my inner reality and perceptions and wreak all manner of mental mischief if I don't keep it in check -- a constant battle always, but especially so during the intense headsickness and mental fuzziness/headfog/general inner-deadened state of this last week or so, with it all pretty much intensifying and climaxing somewhat last night and especially this morning. Then, late morning, it all sort of climaxed when I first got some good perspective/feel for the patterns of it all, then had a lucky, strong lifting of the headsickness, thus enabling me to fully silence that "inner voice/commentary" strongly enough and long enough to really contain it and thus enter into the present/the moment/return to myself somewhat -- all of this bringing about what I internally referred to as "release," specifically, and bringing with it a big rush of the general sentiment involving all the benefits of doing so and how radically it shifts perception/whole being/wellness, etc, etc, etc. In a nut: an enormously powerful experience, not a new one by any means but to a new order/level, etc, such that I carried all my observations and such about it into lunch -- and then, through the entire 1.5 hours of reading then, the book echoed *the whole of that exact experience exactly,* and right from the start of the book, the author describing how he bought an RV and went out into the desert to "silence his inner voice" and the mental/perceptual distortions it brought and so "get back into the present moment" -- and that was just the start, with the man going on to echo all sorts of specifics not only of that general subject but of the exact same observations and practices involved in some way or another in my morning-long experience, and in the exact same terms and such, such as how I'd reflected specifically this morning on how silencing the mind and getting fully into one's stillness and such is, in my personal terminology/lexicon/subjective reference, "going to Heaven" -- which the author echoed *exactly,* in the exact same context and terms both, describing the exact same practice and its disciplines as being the "gateway to Heaven," and explaining it as that exact same thing such that there was no mistaking it. And the same for the "moment of Release," his wording verbatim, which is exactly how I'd internally described my returning to the present moment upon successfully/climactically silencing my inner commentary this morning, as "release" specifically, and in that same pronoun-like sense. And such it went on for probably upwards of a *dozen* such explicit, same-term echoes regarding this general subject plus others entirely, including some vague parallels and recurrences in the mix if I remember right (and another patternistic element I've seen before with these: an absolute silence of other type of activity/incidents during the reading session, again as if intelligently orchestrated so that I could focus purely on the affirmative elements of the thematic cluster ...). And then there's the fact that I was reading this book at all, which was a random ebook I'd discovered and then bookmarked months ago, maybe upwards of a year if I remember right, and only just a few days ago dug out and decided to buy and read as my next book (this once again despite my already having bought another book to read, 100% patternistic with many of these, ha ha). And, equally: the fact that I finished the 'Martian' book last night and then Just Happened to buy, download, and beginning reading this new one today exactly, just hours after I'd had the exact experience that the book would echo in multiple ways exactly (and, of course, the book's overt blurb/description made zero mention of any of this, only describing how it was about a man's experiencing while living in the Slab City colony in the desert, making zero mention of the "stillness" or silencing the mind or any of that -- 100% objective, without the slightest question). Even now, after everything, even past such affirmative echo-clusters ... this one just stands out, nothing less than a living-dream in every way ...
Next, another exemplary case of the sub-type I refer to as the "everyday little thing" recurrence. These incidents go like this: I will encounter some specific, yet not-uncommon, thing that I've not been exposed to in some time -- be it an object, a thought, a feeling, a person, an idea, whatever -- and then, soon after, encounter it again, perhaps only vaguely or indirectly or in a different form than the original, but always the same in essence, and demonstrating the same patternistic elements (and, often, these too occurring perhaps a dozen or more times within the course of a day). On the 29th, this phenomenon manifested, initially, by way of a cartoon:
Another classical cartoon-type of "little thing" echo, today beginning when I read a random cartoon during the mornings clippings where a plumber makes an emergency house-call and charges triple the money (the first I'd encountered this not-exactly-uncommon situation/sentiment in some time, patternistically), and then, in the 'Paris' book at lunch, it mentioned this same damn exact thing to the letter, in a part about this general thing, with the exact words of "nobody ever rings these 24/7 plumbers" because they were so ridiculously expensive/known to charge exhorbitant sums, etc (this coming by way of the author describing how he'd had to call a locksmith in an emergency and ended up being charged $2,000).
Now, finally, another echo-type incident, this one, also, arriving by way of music, except now from a live, human performance rather than a recording on the radio. And, this one is from the 29th, as well, because today, the 30th, was the rare day that saw no singly notable incidents (oh, there were incidents today, just none objective and coherent enough to be described ...):
[It] happened at the farmer's market where the man was playing music for tips, and precisely as I took out the $20 to pay for the pollen, the man randomly/singularly sang out "The devil loaned me twenty bills," in the context of "twenty dollars," again perfectly synchronistic/intertwined with my finding the two ten-dollar bills in my wallet and absently registering them with the thought of "that's $20" or something to that end, perfectly patternistic. Plus, notable context: I'd meant to buy only the $10 bag of pollen, but the lady was out, thus causing me to get the $20 bag and thus pull out $20 instead of $10, ha ha.

Saturday, April 7, 2018

This Is My Normal

It happened in a supermarket parking lot.

I was walking through the rows of cars, occupied with troubled thoughts of ill-health and car issues and other things rooted in the past and the future -- that is, anything but the present moment, which involved a particularly lovely Spring day that my internal conflict had blinded me to.

Realizing this, I silenced my mind and, thus, soaked in the priceless weather and its bounty, with a thought of Just live now, in the moment. Let it be.

Not two seconds later, the scrap of paper caught my eye.

It was feet away, a random piece of litter in the gutter of the sidewalk I'd just mounted, just one of the multitude cast off by folks coming and going to a busy supermarket as I was at the time. But this one in particular just Jumped Out at me, in a distinct way I've experienced many times before, yet am unable to accurately describe.

So I picked it up, finding it to be a fortune-cookie fortune -- one which echoed exactly what I'd just thought, even as the sentiment was still crossing the forefront of my mind.

(And, no, I couldn't possibly have read the fortune ahead of time and been subconsciously influenced, both due to the fact that, first, I'd begun the chain of thoughts at the other end of the parking lot, as to be totally objective and independent; and, second, the paper and its text were so small, they only became readable after I'd picked up the fortune and brought it to my face, impossible to have been readable by me even peripherally ...)

Wednesday, February 28, 2018

The "Nearby Stranger" Synchronicity

Imagine this, if you will:
You are in a restaurant, alone, immersed in a book as you tend your meal. Seated one table over, two fellow patrons sit in deep, passionate conversation, which you can't help but overhear as you read. Then, suddenly: you come to a random word in the text, totally at random -- at the exact moment that one of your next-door neighbors speak that same word, as randomly, yet with a perfect, seamless timing. There's no hint of complicity on the peoples' part, with the echoed word being a simple, natural part of their conversation, completely relevant to its flow and subject matter. What's more, the people are fully oblivious to you and your book; they are, in fact, both facing away from you, such that it's physically impossible for them to see what you're reading, in any case.

You blink, struck by the echo. Did you really just hear that? You give pause ... then return to your reading. Just a coincidence.
However, moments later, it happens again. Different word, but as randomly, and with that same impossibly precise timing.

Then, before you've sufficiently convinced yourself of the last one's insignificance, a third echo occurs -- and this time it's two words, and these more specific, obscure, rarer, not heard in everyday language. And with that same, synchronous overlap.
Now, take that scenario and multiply it, so that the theoretical strangers' conversation repeatedly echoes the exact words and phrases you encounter in your reading, five, six, seven times -- a dozen, and now reflecting even more nuanced qualities, such as words and objects in the exact same contexts and usage, and thematic, non-literal (but no less explicit) parallels, and profounder details still. Over the course of the couple's thirty-minute discussion, there are so many hits, and with such identical, patternistic behavior, the chances of simple coincidence grow astronomically high. With each new repetition, it gets harder and harder to reasonably consider any notion of a purely "rational" explanation.

That's the "nearby stranger" type of synchronicity I speak of, and it is one I have experienced, to date, several dozen times.

* * *

This category of the phenomenon speaks for itself, even within the scatterbrained writing of my personal incident log. So, rather than explain further, I'll let the entries doing the talking, verbatim, through several choice instances that exemplify the various intricacies and sub-types of this particular animal, taken at random from 2016:

"[It started with me] holding up an 'XL' tank top at the thrift store and determining that it was a child's extra-large (it was very small, no way it would fit me) precisely as a nearby stranger said to her child, 'It's for little people'"


"Precisely as I reached for the butter container holding my lunch, a nearby stranger said 'margarine,' in perfectly synchronistic fashion. Interestingly, I'd thought the container was for margarine instead of butter"


"A cool one at lunch, another of those 'nearby stranger echoing my book' ones, today a lady at the Hot Springs coffee shop saying 'old age' precisely as I read 'eighty-year-olds' in the "Sunburned Country" book -- another of those precisely imprecise ones, with the same underlying archetype of 'old,' etc, and again fitting that same pattern of the person being engaged in conversation with another stranger and being unable to even see my book, etc, etc."


"[...] right as I read 'cries of delight,' a random car passed with a child calling out the window, making a high, loud, cheerful noise that can only be described as a 'cry of delight.' Wow."


"Also, a cool and somewhat unique 'nearby strangers talking'-type one at lunch. While I was reading about general music stuff and specifically how Jerry Garcia had to be taught to play music again, two people at a nearby table were undergoing a job interview where a guy was getting a job as a musical instructor as some kind, with their conversation echoing what I was reading in the book but only in vague and subtle ways, as to only really be notable when taken into account collectively, rather than those more explicit ones like before. The most explicit/synchronous it got in this regard was when the man at the table said 'Nashville' precisely as I read 'country and western' in the book (and, it bears mentioning, the man was referring to Nashville in the same musical context as the book)."


"[...] And then, at Dr. Scaffidi's office, a really cool and striking one where precisely as I turned a page in a random magazine and revealed 'TRACK' written in big letters on the fresh page, Dr. Scaffidi said 'track' to his patient, when both were in the other room and entirely out of view of me, etc [...]"


"Precisely as I read 'See that?' in the 'Zeitoun' book, a nearby woman said 'No, haven't seen that part' -- not 100% precise literally, yet was in essence, and also sort of like that thought/reading one from yesterday with the house, in a 'question and answer' format"
And so on and so forth. Again, I'll avoid overstatement, and end the post here. Make of it what you will.

(For the curious, there's plenty more incidents where those came from, beginning before August of '16 and running right up to the present. Read 'em at the log.)

Thursday, December 14, 2017

... And the Book-Thematics Continue

A quick follow-up to my last post, about my recent book-thematic incident involving Kafka's Metamorphosis.

It happened again. And, this time the circumstances were even more improbable.

In short: instead of forgetting my book and being forced to grab one randomly from the internet, I finished one unexpectedly and was left without a replacement or a place to buy one, after which I eventually unearthed one from a random mound of trash along a random city street in the middle of the night -- yet, it turned out to be as synchronistic and life-echoing as the first one (and, as I would discover, quite a good read, too).

My rambling 12/6/17 log entry describes it best (and is oddly appropriate, given the sheer craziness at play), so I'll let it speak for itself, verbatim:

"[...] It started yesterday when the fasting book proved to be shorter than I'd expected, and thus left me finishing it at dinnertime last night and not having a replacement lined up for lunch today, and so last night I'd gone searching for either a free book somewhere, or one thrown away as trash, or a book store -- and, in the end, all I found was a trash book, and at the end of a hugely random search that I won't bother trying to detail other than that it contained a lot of Compellings, and eventually me getting lost and having to double back through several blocks of the city several times -- and then, at the end of this headspinning ordeal, I Just Happened to come to a big pile of 'someone moved out of their apartment'-type of mounds of trash, in which was a big bag of books, and in which I found this "Short Eyes" book (which, besides being notable itself given the chances of getting any books from random trash, this one was actually one I had on my list that I wanted to read, after hearing about it somewhere several months ago -- a little ask-n-receive in itself, pretty much standout quality in itself). So then, just like the Kafka book from last week or whenever that happened, I ended up reading this ridiculously random, couldn't-have-been-less-likely "Short Eyes" book at lunch today, yet it managed to echo not only my life/thoughts in longwinded thematic/parallel fashion, but also to echo a bunch more of those small in-the-moment thought/environmental events -- just so incredible and living-dream, even after it had happened before, haha."

* * *

And then the next day, it happened again, identical in nature and insane unlikelihood, but now involving a random eBook I'd downloaded years ago, partially read, and then abandoned ... only to return to it out of simple necessity on 12/7, and find it to echo my life and circumstances and surroundings at that particular date and time.

Another befittingly messy log entry:

"[...] And today was identical even in the book being yet another 'ridiculously/impossibly random book read only because of finishing one without having another one ready,' this time, after my looking for a book or a bookstore or even a good magazine to read on the way to lunch and finding nothing, I found myself looking through my Kindle, even though logic would say this was pointless since all the books on there were logically ones I'd already read. Except that I did finally come across one (Compelled to keep looking despite all appearances/logic) that I'd totally forgotten about, a book I'd read the first chapter or two of and then decided I couldn't keep going with it at the time, but still left on there, unfinished. So I ended up reading this random old ebook, and even the chapter I chose to start at was totally random, with my having no memory of where I'd left off (the Kindle had since reset the reading position for some reason) -- and yet, despite all these layers of randomness, it still managed to echo all sorts of things that had happened last night, this morning, and also several small 'in the moment'-type incidents during lunch (such as my coming to 'he was halfway out the door' precisely as a man randomly walked through the double sliding doors directly in front of my table at the market I was eating at, not only echoing the 'out the door' but also the 'halfway,' since the man was going through the first of two doors/halfway out, etc). Again incredibly notable despite its subjectivity/subtly, for all kinds of reasons ..."

* * *

I will again bid the reader to make of this what they will. But, after a triple play like this, I gotta admit: it's hard not to lean toward the obvious conclusion.

Thursday, November 30, 2017

Enter the "Thematic"

And still my synchronistic adventures continue to evolve, now with the emergence of yet another sub-type: the "thematic" incident.

This particular species of the phenomenon is defined as follows: a "theme" somehow presents itself in my life experience, often with the same specific elements popping up here and there in some capacity, spanning the course of a day or two in most cases, and always in the most random, yet coherent, of ways. For instance, one morning I might read of something ridiculously strange, rare, or obscure, only to encounter that exact same curiosity in the afternoon, entirely randomly and perhaps in a different form or manifestation, but always discreet enough to be observed as a pronounced repetition, however different in appearance or source or detail. The result is something of a subtle psychic "echo," similar in effect to the echo-type of incident, but differentiated in behavior (and, usually, in the "texture" of the ultimate experience, in a way difficult to convey in writing).

Case in point: one morning I ordered a certain supplement, a pituitary glandular, made from porcine and bovine sources (yeah, the brain-stuff). And then, that afternoon, in a random novel that I'd begun reading just the day before, I came to the description of a monster that fed on the pituitary glands of its victims, which was not announced previously in the text (or on the cover or in the blurb or anywhere else visible to me when I'd purchased this book) -- thus echoing perfectly the underlying theme of "carnivorous consumption of pituitary glands," in a way that could not obviously be explained by any "normal" causation.

I had experienced several of these over the years, to be sure. However, only lately have they become frequent enough, and distinct enough, to deserve their own classification.

This was seen most strikingly, once more, in my reading. More than once now, I've had my current book -- often as random a book as could be, bought and read "blindly," without foreknowledge of the contents or often even the subject matter -- thematically echo my life at the time, in varying ways and with varying accuracy and frequency, but always to the degree of being unmistakably relevant (and damn eerie, in a special way that even the most surreal of my synchronistic experiences can't rival).

Over a period of about a month, these type of incidents began to increase in frequency and distinction, slowly coming into my awareness and establishing themselves as a sub-type. However, it wasn't until a particular book, 'The Guinea Pig Diaries' by A.J. Jacobs, that I saw just how drastic the life-echoing thematics could be.

It started one day when, over the course of a particularly eventful morning, I'd undergone a series of random thoughts, images, experiences, and other specific real-life miscellany -- and then, no more than an hour later while reading the book at lunchtime, I found the text echoing nearly my entire morning, and in a coherent manner, sometimes even using the exact same terms and references. It was, in every sense, like being in a living dream, having my life echoed so explicitly from a piece of literature.

And then, the next day, it happened again.

Same exact deal: after a particularly eventful morning filled with specific, unique, memorable experiences, I sat down to enjoy a quite, uneventful lunch with a good book ... only to find it to once more echo, more or less exactly, my morning, and again even reflecting specific events in similar or identical terms.

And would you believe that, the next day, the pattern repeated itself? The word "trifecta" comes to mind. (And "wow.")

* * *

Indeed, quite surreal. And new, too. But this "thematic" business wasn't finished, nor fully developed.

After that milestone 'Guinea Pig' book, I did come to experience several more stark instances of such activity -- never quite so intense or explicit as that marathon three-day run, though close to it, and always in the same, now-recognizable pattern. However, it was only November 28th, two days ago as of writing, that I was introduced to the latest iteration of the thematic synchronicity, the first that could be described as a noticeable, more mature version of the sub-type.

This one, too, began with a book -- or, rather, my lack of one.

I forgot my book at home, is what happened. Somehow, literally for the first time ever, I walked out the door with absolutely everything I needed for the day ... except for my current read, to be enjoyed over lunch. And, worse, I discovered my blunder only when I had actually sat down and set the table and taken my vitamins and laid out every utensil save for my cherished book -- when I was past the point of no return, as it were. But, resourceful as I am, I went to my one available means of recourse: my phone.

Now, I don't normally read on my phone, as a rule. In fact, I make as little use of my smartphone as possible, leaving it turned off 99% of the time, and for a dozen different reasons. But, hungry for the written word as much as lunch, I made an exception and quickly went online and Googled "free ebook," looking for a book, any book. And, as it were, after tapping through the first page that came up, I had soon downloaded a free HTML copy of the first remotely interesting book to catch my eye: The Metamorphosis, by Kafka (which I'd never read, believe it or not).

Thus outfitted, I finally blessed my food, took a bite, put the phone in airplane mode, and began reading. Not perfect, surely, but it worked.

What's the point of my little tale? Simple: that the book I ended up reading throughout my lunch hour that day was about as ridiculously random and unforeseen as humanly possible, with the development arising from a surprise circumstance unknown even to myself. In other words: there's no way I could've known, even on a deeply subconscious level, that I'd be reading a different book than that I'd had planned, and especially not Metamorphosis in particular.

Need I tell you what happened next?

It was the 'Guinea Pig' book all over again, from the very first page, with Metamorphosis echoing, either essentially or overtly and literally, my morning, which just happened to have been another unique, un-routine adventure filled with abnormal-for-me events -- except, now the thematically-echoing text was from a book that hadn't even been on my radar until seconds earlier. This batch of thematic echoes ranged from vague-but-identifiable (I'd woken up uncharacteristically late that day, throwing off my whole schedule, despite my being a chronic late-morning insomniac, when the Kafka character had woken up uncharacteristically late, throwing off his whole schedule) to the unmistakably explicit (these were, unfortunately, all too complicated or subjective to quote with any degree of coherence, but, nonetheless, were there, and no less head-spinning for their lack of objective notability). And, like previous instances of these thematic-reading sessions, there were more than just a few parallels there, with at least a dozen or so by the time I'd finished lunch.

Living. Dream.

Afterward, I was left feeling that my morning had been gathered up, put in a blender, and poured into this book.

* * *

And need I say that it didn't even stop there, with the thematic-type incidents?

That is, there were other, "normal" kinds of synchronicities that involved my uber-random reading of the Kafka book -- those of the instant, in-the-moment variety, all of them notable in themselves but also upgraded in unlikeliness due to their dependence on my Just Happening to be reading that particular book.

For instance: reading certain passages of the text that coincided, with absolutely perfect timing and accuracy, with fully random and objective events occurring around me, such as coming to "pouring" precisely as someone hit the dispenser on a drink machine and sent out a distinct "water pouring into a cup" noise. Or, similarly, when I caught my head slumping down and straightened it up (after reading on my phone for over an hour), for the first time, precisely as I came to some equally random and singular text that described exactly that (yet couldn't have influenced me subconsciously, with my head-straightening depending on the objective, independent event of my muscles fatiguing at that precise time). Etc. Etc.

I could go on and on, but my fingers hurt (and so does my head, still, from all the spinning it did two days ago when this all happened). Make of it what you will.