For some reason, right now, for the coming dream, I remembered a case from childhood. Yes, just so that the hair on, sorry, ass stood on end. Maybe someone mine little story help you avoid major problems.
It was in 1995, when I lived in a workers' settlement with a population of 10-15k people. I went to school, first or second grade, now I don’t even remember. The father was not there, and the mother was at work from morning to evening, like most parents of that time, trying to earn an extra penny. Hmm ... I got carried away, I get down to business. And it went like this:
I came from school, the briefcase flew in one direction, the shift in the other. And when I came home, I did not pay attention that near the entrance a gypsy child of about my age was rubbing. There were no doors in the entrances then, so, a piece of plywood on rusty hinges, more for the sake of appearance, so that the snow would not sweep into the entrance. Well, that means that I didn’t have time to wash my hands and sit down at the table in order to throw in myself a couple of sandwiches with sausage, carefully left by my mother in the refrigerator, when I hear a cautious knock on the door.
Lightly so "knock-knock". Well, I think it seemed something ... A minute later, a more confident knock distinctly three times "knock knock knock".
And at that time they liked to knock on the door or call with a "password", they say, "I will press the bell three times, then my people have come, open it." I don’t know why all parents chose the same “password” for their children, apparently just a coincidence) call to the yard, drive the ball.
I go to the door, but something skipped a beat and asked who was there. And the answer is cheerful children's voice: "Hi, it's me, let's open it already." Well, I think the voice of a neighbor-classmate, so he is. I open it and understand that nichrome is not a classmate. A healthy uncle takes the door with his hand and opens it even wider. Nearby stands another and smiles into a full mouth of gold teeth. And the gypsy at this moment quickly runs down the stairs.
Even with my meager childish mind, I realized that something very bad could happen now. "Malshchik, is mom at home?" asks a smiling, golden-toothed stranger, and at that moment his friend has already stuck his head in the door frame and is rummaging through the hut with his eyes. Well, I think they came...
I don't know what drives people sometimes extreme situations, sometimes you just wonder) I say: "Yes, right now, I'm getting dressed already, you arrived early" and I go straight to the big uncle. He took a step back in surprise and let go of the door.
At that moment, I slammed it shut and rushed out into the street (we had a door with a "self-locking" lock). Apparently, they didn’t expect such a reaction from me, because they didn’t even have time to say anything, as I flew out of my entrance in socks and shorts and ran into the next one.
Fortunately, my friend lived there, who, with wild laughter, dragged a phone into the hallway and I was able to call my mother at work.
An hour later I was already at home and chewing my favorite sausage sandwiches. And my mother called someone and cried, straight to the shaking in her hands.
Here is such a sudden "flashback" for the coming dream...
Kenneth Parks is a Canadian who started suffering from insomnia in his early 20s. He developed it after he lost his job and accumulated a bunch of debts on gambling. On May 23, 1987, Parks got out of bed, drove 10 kilometers to his wife's parents' house, killed his mother-in-law and wounded his father-in-law. After that, he himself came to the police in the same state of sleepwalking. The court believed, and the experts confirmed that Kenneth could have done this in his sleep, in connection with which he was found not guilty.
"Nameless" Australian woman
A woman from Australia suffered from sleepwalking. Although there is not much information about this case, but here is what is known. The woman had a boyfriend, but she regularly got up, left her house, and had sex with men she didn't know. This happened over the course of several months. At first, no one understood what was happening and why there were so many condoms around the house, but one night the boyfriend woke up and did not find his beloved next to him. After a short search, he found her on the street when she was half asleep having sex with a stranger. Luckily she was cured...
Timothy Brueggeman
Timothy Brueggeman from upstate Wisconsin, is the only person from this list, who has no history of sleepwalking, but rather suffered from terrible insomnia for many years. One summer, he drove his pickup truck into a tree after falling asleep at the wheel. After that, the doctors prescribed him sleeping pills Ambien. While this drug has been linked to hundreds of cases of sleepwalking, its manufacturers claim the drug is perfectly safe, as long as it's taken correctly. In January 2009, however, Brueggeman, after taking these pills for the first time, and as it turns out last time, went to sleepwalk. He left the house in only his underwear, when it was terribly cold outside ... The next morning they found him in his shorts, frozen in a snowdrift not far from the house.
James Currens
James Currens was a sleepwalker for a long time, but his worst adventure happened when he was 77. In 1998, he got up and left the house, taking only his cane with him ... It probably saved his life. Leaving the house, he recovered towards the pond, but got stuck in the mud. Waking up, he found himself surrounded by alligators, and only a cane and loud screams, which attracted the police, helped him survive.
Jules Lowe
In 2003, Edward Lowe was found dead in his garden. Death came to an 83-year-old man after terrible beatings. A neighbor noticed Edward's body on the road and contacted the police, who arrested the man's son, Jules. Father and son drank before that night, but the cause of the tragedy was not alcohol, but sleepwalking. The Lowe family had a long history of sleepwalking, and everyone knew that all of the seizures were caused by alcohol. In court, the lawyers built their defense only on this. And he was acquitted...
Jan Luedecke
Jan Luedecke from Toronto was at the party. After a heavy night of drinking, he fell asleep on the couch. A few hours later, he was awakened by an unknown guy. It turned out that Yang had raped the girl in her sleep, so the guy told him, but Yang did not believe until he went to the bathroom and found the condom that was put on him. The court was initially skeptical of his defense, and even the doctor was not on his side. But he was saved from prison by one of ex girlfriends, who said that Yang, after drinking, becomes a lunatic-sex maniac.
Unknown 15 year old girl
The guy was walking home at 2 am in the town of Dulwich, England. On the way, he noticed a girl who, in pajamas alone, was sleeping on one of the spans of the crane. He called the firemen and an ambulance. The doctors asked her not to touch her, and the firefighters were already aware that some parents had reported the loss of their daughter, who suffered from sleepwalking. Fortunately, the girl was carefully removed from the crane, but no one will ever know how she ended up at a height of 40 meters.
Lesley CusackLesley Cusack
Leslie Cusack is a 55 year old woman from Cheshire, England. This is one of those girls who is after six in the evening, and after midnight ... And at the same time she does all this in her sleep. She cooks in her sleep, uses a gas stove in her sleep, and eats a huge amount of food, yes, yes, in her sleep. At first I didn’t know why she was getting fat, but then everything fell into place. She is currently undergoing treatment for sleepwalking. Hope everything goes well with her.
Stuart Miller
Sleepwalking is more common in children than in adults. About 17% of children aged 4-8 have at least one experience of sleepwalking. With age, this figure drops to 5%. Stuart Miller was 8 years old when this incident happened to him. One night in September 1993, Stewart began his adventure. He lived in an apartment in high-rise building on the fourth floor, and that night, he "came out" of the bedroom window. The court ordered the owner of the building to pay $2 million to the victim to replace windows that had no protection. Stuart survived, but for the rest of his life he was chained to wheelchair.
Robert Ledru
Robert Ledru was one of best detectives France in the 19th century. He lived in Paris and one morning he was called to investigate the murder of Andre Monet. By all indications, a professional shot, but Robert also discovered that the killer had deprived himself of a toe, and he did it from the same weapon ... Everything was strange, but the strangeness was that ...... In the morning, Robert Ledru woke up with a bloody toe in his boots and several rounds missing from his revolver. To his horror, he realized that it was he who killed Monet at the time when he was sleepwalking. Another interesting fact is that sleepwalking is believed to have been caused by the presence of syphilis in Robert. Understandably, the French police refused to accept this theory when Ledru turned himself in, so they decided to experiment. They put him in a cell for night observation. And the very first night, he really started to sleepwalk. The next day they placed a pistol next to him. At night, Robert woke up, took a pistol and began to "shoot" at the guards. The police decided that he could not be held responsible for his actions, but still posed a danger to society. So he was exiled to a farm in countryside where he lived the last 50 years of his life with guards and a nurse.
The scorching sun has finally subsided. One word - Tashkent, and even in the midst of July, is it a joke! IN Once again we put the kettle on, tea at sunset is no longer a salvation from the heat, as at noon, but rather something ritual. Here, at the base of the rescuers of the Tashkent RPSS, everything goes on as usual: two kettles that boil in turn, chintz curtains of canopies lazily swaying in the wind, under which we sit, dogs that appear only in the evening. For two days we have become so accustomed to this routine that we feel like white-bearded aksakals. Tomorrow a car will come for us, taking us to the mountains, tomorrow - the Pamir Highway. Then - a small airfield in a mountain valley, from there - a helicopter to the camp in the Moskvin glade ... Our path is just beginning.
The owner, Alexei, the instructor on duty at the base, places bowls on the table. We watch how he slowly brews tea, pours it, puts a dish of caramel in a circle.
- And what - he suddenly asks - did you have to visit Suloev?
- I had to.
I remember the abandoned alpine camp on the Suloev glade - the starting point for the expeditions of past years to the Peak of Communism. I happened to be there in the nineties. At that time, there were two or three groups of wooden houses, a dining room with gas stoves, folding beds in a warehouse. And all this is in the center of the Pamirs, the height is four thousand meters, where the nearest dwelling is three days' journey through high passes, and around are places that we previously read about only in books: the Springboard Icefall, from behind which the top of Communism Peak is visible , the route of the Petrel on the wall, leading to the Firn Plateau. And besides - not a single person in the entire camp, only fragments of polyethylene flutter in the wind and an ice collapse rumbles in the distance somewhere on Springboard. And again silence, not even somehow it becomes ...
“About two years ago,” continues Alexei, “we worked for Suloev. They dismantled the boards, stacked them, prepared other materials for shipment to Moskvin, to the active camp. The helicopter was supposed to come for us tomorrow - to pick up people and cargo. In the meantime, we, four healthy men, having put all our things in one of the remaining houses, tied the bales and dragged them to the helipad. Jokes - jokes, the mood was upbeat, a friendly dinner was expected in the evening. Why don't we allow ourselves another glass of tea! Even our husky, which jumped into a helicopter in last moment, galloped nearby, apparently anticipating the lamb bones from the table.
Evening descended, it blew cold. The four of them grabbed a hefty shield, dragged it to the already assembled stacks near the landing site. We drag, swear - it's hard! That's it, that's the last flight for today, that's enough! As soon as we disappeared behind a hillock, we see our dog rushing after us - ears pressed down, tail like a wolf, between the legs. Runs, squints, looks back all the time. Caught up with us, not far behind. Well, we and his matyuks, so as not to be confused underfoot. They dragged it, threw the shield, we go back, dust ourselves off. And the dog runs behind, whining. What the heck! Wolves, right? Like they haven't seen them before. We came to our house. The dog is generally wilted, barely dragging. The guys joke: “What, an infection, did you smell the height? You have to train!" We look - the door to the house is locked. That is, not that it is locked, but the handles of the valves are twisted with wire. Moreover, steel wire, five millimeters, wire rod. Coil to coil, the wire is wound, as if wound on a machine. We stood in front of the door in a row and stood, not knowing what to think. There are no even thoughts in my head - only a steel spiral in front of my eyes. They probably stood for a minute in the last rays of sunset. Maxim was the first to come to his senses: “Guys, let's get out of here!”.
The guys that time gathered not weak, anyone would have driven a joker between the horns for such jokes. Instructor again. Young boys are not taken there. Only, here, there were no jokers. Actually, there was no one. Therefore, there was no special debate: they kicked out the window into the house, took their things and went down, along the Fortambek glacier, to the alpine camp in the Moskvin glade. We walked all night, only in the morning we reached the base tents. In the camp, of course, they immediately went to bed. And what to do, because they will make fun of them - they were afraid of Bigfoot! Yes, and the dog grew bolder - he did not let anyone in the camp, so as not to cling to the trouser leg. The people were indignant: “Remove this toothy bastard, otherwise I’ll bring an iceball!”. The matter did not come to the icebal, everything ended in peace. The dog was fed, and we slept, and we no longer remembered those cases. The next day I flew to Dushanbe to meet clients for the alpine camp. That's where it all ended.
A walkie-talkie squealed in the booth - evening communication.
“They’re calling,” Alexei sighed and left, dissolving into the twilight.
As it happens, no one broke the suspended pause. Only fragments of words could be heard from the radio room through the hiss and whistle of the ether.
“Yeah,” the elder finally said, “what did the guys hear? We must take wire cutters with us to the mountains, we will bite the wire.
“Then a chainsaw,” someone from the darkness answered lazily.
Your talk is idiotic. Time to sleep. And then he will tell you something else, just listen - the third yawned.
The boys tossed and turned, settling on the couch. Bright southern stars shone through the canopy, a night bird called somewhere. In fact, it's time to sleep, because tomorrow we will go back to where we later return only in our memories.
This story was recorded by the famous Ufa tourist mountaineer, master of sports of the Russian Federation, senior instructor in tourism, Lukyanov Oleg Gennadievich
http://www.oleglukyanov.narod.ru/
Photo of the Suloev glade courtesy of Dmitry Zhukov http://new.photosight.ru/users/2687
The photo of the ghost was taken by amateur photographer Ilya Levin
There are many cases when photographs suddenly show figures or faces of people who were not in the frame at that time. As a rule, these figures are vague, their faces are unclear, but no one dares to attribute the appearance of these strange guests to the marriage of a film or a digital camera. Here is a story from the life of Boris Semenovich Levin, an amateur photographer.
“I have been photographing for forty years. As a child, he started with the simplest camera "Smena-7", then he acquired "FED", a little later "Zenith". They were followed by fancy professional cameras "Minolta", "Canon", now I have one of the latest models of "Nikon". I spent half my life under the red light of a flashlight, developing films, printing photographs. He collaborated a lot with newspapers and magazines. My photos are always willingly published there. I could have become a professional photographer, but in the provincial town where I lived, the fees in the newspapers were meager, it was impossible to live on them. Therefore, I never quit my main job as an engineer, and photography became my lifelong hobby.
A story about an unusual phenomenon
Believe me, I can distinguish marriage on film or some side effects on a digital camera from an image that is actually there. There are a lot of pictures on the Internet today, where spirits, ghosts, UFOs and other manifestations of extraterrestrial entities are depicted. I think that most of these are fakes or jokes, but sometimes something catches. I sometimes look at this or that photo for a long time and sometimes I feel.
Spiritual photography, which depicts an object from the other world, became widespread in the second half of the 19th century.
It's scary, because this happened to me myself. In 1983, together with my colleagues, employees of the design bureau, I went for two days along the Golden Ring. The bus was allocated by the factory, the trade union paid for the tickets, so all that remained was to enjoy the trip around the most beautiful places Russia. I took my Zenit, five films (they were in terrible short supply then) and captured the whole excursion as a keepsake.
Colleagues promised to print photos in a couple of weeks. But urgent matters piled up, and two weeks later I hadn't even touched the tapes. A week later, the chairman of the trade union called me and said that a wall newspaper was being prepared for publication, completely devoted to the trip along the Golden Ring and, of course, to make it without pictures. I had to drop everything and go to work in the evening. I developed and printed all night. The pictures turned out great, the weather during the trip was good, there was enough light, and I shot without a flash.
From the history of ghost photography
One of the ardent supporters of the idea of photographing ghosts was the writer Arthur Conan Doyle. In 1925, he even opened a museum dedicated to filming ghosts.
The only thing that slowed me down that night, surprised and even frightened me, were photographs of one of our employees, Marksina Stepanovna. She was already an elderly woman, by that time she was retired, but she was invited on a trip as the oldest employee of the design bureau. In the first photo she was taken, a gray spot appeared behind her, similar to a human figure. Moreover, the figure was large and Marksina Stepanovna seemed to be standing in its shadow. The picture was taken in Vladimir. At first, I did not suspect anything, I decided that this was a technical defect, and immediately sent the loose photo to the trash. After a minute it turned black and it was impossible to distinguish anything on it. The next picture is Suzdal.
From the history of ghost photography
1861 is considered the official date for the appearance of spirit photographs. Then the American W. G. Mumler discovered that the photograph he developed contained the image of his late cousin
Woman standing in front of the museum wooden architecture. Behind him is the same figure. I already lowered this photo into the fixer, it became interesting to me. The third is Ivanovo. Monument to Frunze. Beside him, with ice cream in her hand, Marxina Stepanovna, behind her is a gray silhouette.
- Kostroma - Ipatiev Monastery.
- Yaroslavl - John the Baptist.
- Rostov - Spaso-Yakovlevsky monastery.
- Pereslavl-Zalessky - Museum of Crafts.
- Sergiev Posad - Lavra.
Guessed? And I got scared. As I printed new photographs, I became more and more uncomfortable.
From the history of ghost photography
The first, from the point of view of the spiritists themselves, a reliable image of a ghost was received by photographer F. Hudson in March 1872
How much there is in the world, friend Horatio
In the morning I took a magnifying glass and began to examine the films. There was no extraneous image on them, it appeared only when printed. I didn’t know what to think, just in case I didn’t tell anyone anything. Marksina Stepanovna was a delicate woman, so she didn’t call me and didn’t ask about the photographs. I gave them to the rest of the employees a long time ago. And yet, this one haunted me, so I decided to talk to her. Maybe she knows something, although on the other hand, these pictures can scare her.
From the history of ghost photography
In 1903, an exhibition of Boursnel's ghosts was arranged in the hall of the Psychological Society. The photographer presented 300 photos on it
So I spent several days in thought, and when I finally decided to visit her, I saw her portrait in a mourning frame on the notice board in the design office. “At the age of 76, the oldest employee of our design bureau suddenly died ...” There were three of us from the organization. In general, a lot of people gathered. We stood at the coffin, laid flowers. My colleagues went to the cemetery, and then to the wake. I am going home. At first, I kept these pictures in a cake box, where I had unnecessary photo crap that I thought I would someday need. I sometimes took it out and for a long time examined the views of the cities of the Golden Ring with the deceased and a dark silhouette behind me. But then it began to seem to me that these photographs somehow had a bad effect on me, and I took them to the barn.
About it mysterious case I was told at one time by my great-uncle, who at the end of his life moved to us from the Crimea. What it was: witchcraft or temporary insanity, you be the judge.
Their village was the most ordinary, not even a resort. Grandfather Oleg was born there, studied at the school as a carpenter, and got a job on a collective farm. At that time, he was a young guy, his hands grew from where it was necessary, and there was not enough money, even with a quite decent salary of one hundred and ten rubles. Here is the grandfather and the coven. There has always been a lot of work in the village - the floorboards will creak, the porch will squint, the roof needs to be new. The carpenter did not remain without work.
And they had "Babkinskaya street" on the edge of the village. Mostly old women lived there, and without relatives. They were not particularly loved, they were not Russians, and they were not Ukrainians. Like a Moldovan. Each has its own economy, a little, they help their own, but they don’t care about “strangers”. Even though the house will be on fire across the street, they won't give buckets. They lived according to the principle: "My hut is on the edge."
But sometimes they asked for help, of course. Although they themselves were peppy, they were still grandmothers. And then one of them asked her grandfather to fix the porch. Her boards were rotten there, they argued for a long time over the price, but settled on eight rubles. There was, in fact, nothing to work there, so Oleg agreed. She said when to come, and agreed on that.
Namely, on that day, the Archbishop of Crimea and Simferopol, Luka, came to the neighboring village to attend the service. They just built a church there. And it must be said that all the believers revered Luke as a holy man, even ten years ago (or maybe less) the Russian Church canonized him as a saint. He was considered a very devout churchman.
Oleg later remembered all this when he added everything one to one. And then he just went to the same grandmother. Eight rubles for a couple of hours of work, it's still necessary to manage to earn so much. He came to the place, looks, the porch is really bad already. He began to knock on the door to see the hostess, but no one responded to the sound. A little harder the door hit, it opened.
Shouted, shouted, stepped on the threshold. The hostess does not respond. He reached the second room - no one, he was about to leave. But then he noticed a strange noise, like bees swarming. It is clear that no one in their right mind will keep the hives at home. So no bees. He began to walk around the house, but he could not understand everything, where the sound came from. It seems, here it is, you take a step to the side, it subsides.
I stomped around like that for a long time until I saw a door in the floor. Then I realized where the noise came from. He opened the cellar, there was such a buzzing that he recoiled to the side, but nothing flies out. He came closer, and there was darkness, only the outlines were weak, as if large figures were moving. He lit a match and brought it closer to the darkness.
Then he said that he had never experienced such fear in his life. In the underground, those Moldavian grandmothers, all to one, crowded together. And if only it were strange, then half the trouble. Their heads were raised and they all looked up. But the eyes were covered with a white haze, as if everyone had suddenly gone blind. Hair is tousled, and toothless mouths are constantly moving, making those same sounds.
Grandfather would probably have stood there forever, he was so paralyzed by this wild picture, but the match burned out, and the pain made him scream lightly and throw away the burnt wooden stick. The basement was again shrouded in darkness, through which the old women were also buzzing monotonously. Oleg put the door back in place and quietly left the house.
The next day, he met the same grandmother, whom he was supposed to repair the porch. She apologized and said she had to leave immediately. She asked if he had come. Grandfather replied that he had been knocking, but not finding the mistress of the house, he left. Then they agreed to the next day. Then everything passed without incident.
Only a week later, Oleg brought these two circumstances together: strange behavior old women hiding in the underground, and the arrival in the neighboring village of a holy man - Archbishop Luke. Apparently, the grandmothers were very uncomfortable being near such a strong priest.
Grandfather Oleg left the village after seventeen years to us, to Smolensk. Here, already in years, he married, a daughter, my aunt, was born. He said that in all these seventeen years not one of the old Moldavian women had died. Of course, the grandmas have aged a little, but they have not become decrepit. They had at least some strength and agility. What happened to them later, he does not know, there were no relatives left in that village at all, and until his death, his grandfather did not return there.
