Well, somehow the streets of Montreal keep coming up again, with my little synchrolicious moments.  So here we go again.

Lincoln Street

There is one other way how I often experience synchronous moments, and that is from watching movies.

Recently I picked up a copy of David Lynch’s Blue Velvet and made myself comfy as I watched this bizarre little cinematic gem. Either you love David’s Lynch…or you hate him, I guess. Well, there was an awesome gang of acting talent in this one and I was happy watching this movie again, after not seeing it in years.

And then a shot closed in on a street sign, on the street where Isabella Rosselina’s character lives – the emotionally disturbed and very compelling Dorothy Vallens. Lincoln Street. Wow boy did that set off some synchrolicious fireworks in my head.

Lincoln Street was the street where one of my ex-boyfriends lived. During the same time I dated him, a friend moved in on the same street.  Through-out the whole time I worked at my last job, I had to pass by Lincoln Street every single day on my way home.

And a few months ago, I was invited to a special by-invitation-only happening (that I was sworn to secrecy about), that meant walking past Lincoln Street.

So why am I constantly running into Lincoln Street?

Now I have so many emotionally-charged memories of this street…and it keeps pulling me back. Maybe there is a reason for this street calling me.

To be continued, as they say.

Rachel Street

In the mean-time, I had hinted in my previous blog, that I also had a synchronous connection to Rachel Street. Actually, it’s hard to classify just WHAT happened to me with Rachel Street. It does and doesn’t belong in this blog. Or maybe not JUST in this blog. Because it takes me into the world of the paranormal. And there is another paranormal reference in this blog I am writing now – but I won’t get into that.

So what happened to me on Rachel street?

Let me begin at the beginning.
With a dream I had when I was seven years old.

You know how kids dream of being lost?
Well I’ve had quite a few of those kind of dreams…even into adulthood.

So this is the dream I had when I was seven.

I was lost…and felt so utterly completely lost in the universe.

I was trying so hard to go home, but I seemed to go around in the same circles. At one point my first grade teacher appeared, an adult figure who you would think would be able to help (make a note of this), but she couldn’t tell me how to get home. And while I was flowing through this dream, I happened to look up and see a street sign. I remembered it because I had never seen a street sign like it. The design and script, I mean. And the street sign said “Rachel Street”. I had never heard of it.

Fast forward to my sixth grade year.

I had gone to the main public library downtown with my sister, who had needed to check out some books. And we were driving home, just the two of us. My sister was as usual gunning my dad’s poor little green Vauxhall. It was the faithful little car that could. My sister killed that poor car with the way she drove. And of course I was not exactly enjoying my white-knuckled ride in the car with her.

And then we got lost.

We kept going around in the same small circle, with not being able to figure out how to get home. It was an odd part of town that I had never seen before. It was a beautiful summer day and it was hot and my sister was getting frustrated behind the wheel. And then the light turned red and we waited for the light to change. And I happened to look up and saw the street sign above – Rachel Street. Same design and script from my dream, years ago. My teacher in the dream couldn’t tell me how to get home. My sister, an adult I looked up to as well, couldn’t figure out how we could get home. And how to get away from Rachel Street.

Now I had never been to the Plateau area before that ride with my sister.

So how do you explain my seeing the same street sign, and getting lost near it, as I had in my dream many years before?

Well, my face turned white when I looked up at that street sign. My sister even asked me what was wrong. But I couldn’t talk. I was caught up in a strange little universe of my own.

That was the first time I had a precognitive dream, a dream that came true.

Later on, I found out this ran in my family – with my mother and sister.

Precognition? Synchronicity? What to call this experience? Freaky seemed to be the word that fit best.

And yes, I’ve had other freaky moments in my life.