Sometimes you can fall into the traps of time and space
To try to investigate and, if possible, understand a very strange phenomenon associated either with chronomiruses, or with spontaneous movements of people into another reality, I was prompted by facts for which there was no reasonable explanation for a long time. However, even now, to admit, not everything is clear here. The stories that happened seem to be painfully incredible.
Space traps
For the first time, a resident of the city of Volzhsky, Volgograd Region M. V. Obolkin. An incomprehensible "devilry" happened to him in 1995.
- You see, I ended up in another Volzhsky! - he convinced me. - Not in ours, earthly and understandable, but in some other. There are differences from "our". For example, the tram tracks went straight along the entire Engels Street, without turning to Karbyshev, and the houses were slightly different …
Mikhail Vasilyevich's story was detailed, but I had never come across such a thing, and, not finding a sound interpretation, I just shrugged: “Maybe I dreamed?..” Then the story was forgotten for a long time.
However, not so long ago my old friend, an inveterate tourist and orienteer, candidate for master of sports in these types of competitions, Volodya Lebedev, recalled the mysterious phenomenon of chronomire. Now he is Vladimir Vyacheslavovich, the head of the construction site for industrial mountaineering, the director of the training center, and then, in the 70s, everyone knew him as an active athlete.
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- One thousand nine hundred and seventy-six, late July, Friday, - he began his story, I repeat, quite recently. - I remember well about Friday, because on Saturday there were scheduled competitions in the Volga-Akhtubinskaya floodplain, and I wanted to go there that day. He jumped out of the entrance of his beauty at the beginning of the ninth evening and immediately rushed into the arch of the house on Stalingradskaya Street. It was still daylight, but lights were supposed to come on in the windows here and there. Must! But they didn’t burn … And the yard seemed strange: there were always grannies on the bench at the entrance, and here - no one … The kids were not buzzing, and nowhere was a single car. Usually in the evening it is crowded, but now … like a ball roll!
He slipped through the arch and went out onto Stalingradskaya Street. There was an almost completed Palace of Culture, Lenin Square opened to the eyes, but there were no people here either. At all! Empty … Well, this does not happen!.. Summer, July, it is getting dark - and no one!
- I went diagonally to the podium … Fantastic! The silence is extraordinary, already ringing in the ears … It is windless, the sky is without clouds, and there are no cars either according to Lenin or Engels, - Vladimir recalled the details. - True, the sky is a little unusual - some kind of blue-violet. I look at a 1000-apartment building - there usually at this time the windows are already lighting up, but there is no light here. He bit his lip, but hard - I taste blood. I hit myself on the jaw - it hurts!.. But I need to go home, this is already the 10th microdistrict! I stomp on Engels, went up to the acacia, plucked a handful of leaves, chewed - bitterly … In a word, I feel everything, I feel, I understand, but I can not understand anything. Why is the city empty ?! Is the roof on my way?
The city seemed dead. There was nothing for the eye to catch - no birds, no dogs or cats, not even summer midges. The houses were standing, the streets were in place, however, for some reason he did not remember the tram lines along Engels Street. Maybe there were … Suddenly something made him turn around. About a hundred meters behind I saw a figure in a light brown cloak. Just thinking, they say, summer, and the man in the raincoat, wanted to wait for him, as the word "thank you" sounded nearby, and the stranger was already a hundred meters ahead of him. "I took a step, and he is already far away!" - Lebedev was surprised. - Looked around - nobody. Well, he could not overtake me! I was in a hurry to go home, walked quickly, but the man remained at a distance, and then turned to the right."
- I fly into my yard - there are usually full of people, a lot of children, men sit on the benches of the propaganda site, playing cards, dominoes, hubbub … And there is no one here, empty. And the twilight is already noticeable. I fly into the entrance, run to my floor, open the apartment with the key and hit the switch with a bang … A spark flashed - and immediately the noise of the courtyard burst into the apartment. I went to the window, to the balcony, and there was noise, the city was alive, lights in all windows … Here it is, dear, everything is in place … My God! And everything is available at home - mother, brother …
However, then he never said anything to them - he was frightened of the incomprehensible. And I didn't go to understand in the evening. It was not up to that …
- What happened to me that could not be! - Volodya convinced me. - Most likely, for these forty minutes I found myself in a parallel world. Only now I am well-read, I heard something, and then … sheer idiocy!
Lebedev took me in a Zhiguli along the route he had taken on the July evening, recalled the details - the incident was imprinted in my head like on a film strip.
- Then I was always interested in one thing - did this happen to someone else? he mused.
- It happened, - I assured him and told the situation with Obolkin.
Glamor
The story that happened to Mikhail Vasilyevich came to my mind immediately. Moreover, the courtyard from which Lebedev started his race through the strangely deserted city is adjacent to his house. We can say this is one yard. Without delay, I called Obolkin and we met. The story repeated itself exactly as it did then, in the mid-90s.
- I came to the motorcycle parts store, which was located on Engels, almost opposite the technical school, - Obolkin recalled the past. - Second half of August, sunny, three in the afternoon, the store has just opened after lunch. I walked around the windows for about 20 minutes, bought nothing and went outside. It seemed to become gloomy, and there were no people. I did not immediately attach any importance, so I went back home through Karbyshev Square along a path through the lawn. And then I suddenly discovered that the tram rails did not turn to Karbyshev, but went straight, along Engels! Stopped - what is it? Lost your bearings? But to tell the truth, at that moment my head really was, as after anesthesia, bad, in a word, a familiar feeling after one surgical operation.
- What else do you remember?
- There were metal railings along the path, but they were never in reality, there was some other building on the site of the school … There was no monument to General Karbyshev either. But the main thing - no lights in the windows, no people, no cars. And the twilight is already - maybe even deep night, but without our usual crown.
In complete confusion, Mikhail Vasilyevich returned to the store, as to the starting point. It is dark, the windows are not lit, the sky is dark gray and the city is completely gloomy! In the past, an experienced taiga man, he began to guess that something abnormal was happening either with him or in the city. Thought: did you get there? But we must return!.. I went back across the square. And then a man in some kind of robe comes to meet him: a jacket with a hood, hands in pockets, his head is tilted, his face cannot be seen.
- I wanted to ask him: what is the name of this city? However, I realized that I would simply be mistaken for a madman, and at the last moment kept silent, - said my friend. - The man quickly passed by, and I went further along the Engels. And then it dawned on me: I'll go to my grandson. He lived in a house next to the library. I already realize that I am in another world, and I have to get out. Of course, fear rolled over - what if I stay here forever?
On a sharp bell, the door was opened … his Leshka! “Come in, grandfather! - he was surprised at the late visit. - What are you so pale? “Well, my heart seemed to grab hold, - Mikhail Vasilyevich was looking closely at his grandson (was that one?). - Will you pour some tea?
The light was on in the apartment, the TV was on, cars were noisy outside the window, the city hum was heard, which Obolkin was incredibly happy about. The glamor is over. He looked at his watch - 21. “Where have I been for almost six hours?” - a thought flashed. At tea, he told his grandson about the adventure. “Well, you, grandfather, give it!..” - he just said.
- And what are your versions? - I ask the interlocutor.
- Only one, - Obolkin thought, - this is a parallel world. The other does not come to mind. I was told about such gaps in other dimensions. Such transitions are sometimes irrevocable. Consider myself lucky.
And I remembered about the Volzhanka, the X-ray girl Katya Cherkasova. Once she told me that she feels and knows about portals - transitions to other dimensions. One of them seems to be on Engels Street. At what moment and why they open - nobody knows. But it happens. Maybe someone else got into such situations? It would be nice to hear new versions.
"Spun there for four hours …"
And the versions did not fail to show up. After the publication of the story with the portal in the city newspaper, Valentina Nikolaevna from Volzhan called me and told how she, too, was trapped in time and space.
- It was in the fall of 2007. At about five in the evening, an old friend called and invited me to visit. She lived in the center. While I was getting ready, it was already about six. Arrived, left on Sovetskaya (adjacent to Engels Street, crossing it), crossed the road. I go to the right house and don't recognize it. And no one is on the street! Although usually the children are playing, the grannies are sitting on the benches. I looked at the end, and there was a completely different number. The pensioner was confused and decided to go back. Then she went the same way again, but could not even find the house at which I had just stood.
- And it's getting dark. I wander as if in a circle, for some reason all the houses are facing me. I don't see the light in the windows. I think I'll go home.
At first Valentina Nikolaevna could not find a stop. Then she went at random and found herself on a wide, foggy street, dimly lit by lanterns. I saw a bench and sat down.
- Suddenly a minibus appeared out of the ground. Either "five" or "three". I was delighted and ran up: "I need to go to the 25th microdistrict." The driver, a red-haired guy in a green jacket, replies: "Go to the other side." I looked: the Central Market bus stop, people were standing, the lights were on, the bus pulled up. Already at home I looked at the time. It's eleven!
The woman did not tell anyone about the incident. More precisely, almost to anyone. When a friend called and was indignant that she had waited in vain for the whole evening, Valentina Nikolaevna confessed how it was. But the interlocutor did not believe it, she considered that she was composing in her own defense.
- I myself decided: with the head, probably something. And now a year later I read the stories of the Volzhan in the newspaper. Who knows, maybe I was spinning in a parallel world for more than four hours?
Chest Story
An acquaintance of mine from the Odintsovo district in the suburbs, regarding incomprehensible movements to other spaces, also recalled a very amusing story that happened to her grandmother in her youth.
This is what Lyudmila Shevchuk wrote to me:
“A similar incident was told by my late grandmother. True, she did not say anything about time gaps or portals, but expressed herself briefly and succinctly: the devil had beguiled.
It happened in the thirties, in the interval between the arrival of my grandmother in the Odintsovo district (1931) and her marriage (1935). Grandmother - then still a young girl of 16-17 years old - rented a room in the village behind the line (the line is the local name for the railway that divides the village in half). From the station to her house, it was 10-15 minutes walk past warehouses and a field overgrown with bushes. Today there is asphalt and high-rise buildings everywhere, but at that time it was still quite deserted.
Her sister Olga wrote to her that she was coming to enter the same school where my grandmother had studied, and asked to meet her at the station. Trains and electric trains did not run yet, people traveled in some kind of "teplushkas" - wooden carriages with sliding doors. One train in the morning at six o'clock, the other late in the evening after eight. Others did not stop at the station. Olga was supposed to arrive in the morning, but did not come, and her grandmother went to meet her again after work (she studied and worked at the factory at the same time).
Her sister finally showed up, but brought with her a huge and heavy chest with things. So they took up this chest - each from its end - and dragged to the village.
It was late August, the train was late, besides, while the girls were meeting, hugging and sharing news, the rest of the passengers had time to disperse in all directions, so the road in front of them now lay dusky and deserted. They somehow passed the warehouses, went into the field.
At this point in the story, the grandmother invariably uttered the phrase: “And here, in the field, we somehow suddenly felt uncomfortable”. There was a disturbing feeling. They stopped several times and looked around. The grandmother admitted that she was afraid of robbers - the place is still deaf. However, they never caught a single soul. Moreover, even sounds were not heard - the cicadas were silent, the birds too. Even the wind died down. When they walked out onto the main street of the village, they were greeted by the same unnatural silence. No dogs, no chickens, no people. No voices, no barking. And the windows in the houses did not burn, although it was already getting very dark. Grandma said that she simply did not recognize the village. It was as if they had left in a completely different place, a stranger, although there was nowhere to get lost, and the street seemed to look familiar. But this lifelessness was pressing. They approached the house where the grandmother lived. However, they did not enter the courtyard. The thing is,that a very creaky gate led into the yard, but when they pushed it, it didn't make a sound! And then the grandmother was simply frightened and told her sister that, apparently, they turned somewhere in the wrong place and came to the wrong village.
And so they with their trunk turned back towards the station. We went through the field, reached the warehouses and finally fizzled out. Grandmother left Olga to sit on the chest and watch, and she returned to the village. She walked and “looked for a path where they could turn in the wrong place”. Naturally, I did not find it. The village again looked strange and dead. As before, there were no windows anywhere and no dogs barked.
The grandmother was worried about the sister left at the warehouses and ran back, but Olga, fortunately, did not disappear anywhere, she was waiting for her on her chest. Once again they dragged this chest, now in complete darkness of the night, towards the strange village. For the third time, the street met them with silence and ominous silhouettes of black, as if abandoned houses. But then the grandmother was already beside herself and began to bang on the windows of her house with all her might. Not immediately, but after a hitch, a light flashed in the window and the hostess opened the window with a cry, “What happened? What are you, like a madman, hitting the glass? “. And only then did the light suddenly appear in all the surrounding houses, and in the courtyards dogs barked as usual.
The grandmother said that it looked like a cruel joke, as if the inhabitants of the entire village had agreed to play a trick on the girls and hid. But two things prevented her from believing it: the gate, which was still creaking, and the silence (you can't agree with the dogs that they be silent). Anyway, the joke would be ridiculous. Therefore, the grandmother eventually settled on the mystical version: "The demon has beguiled us." Nothing similar happened to her again. And the story of how he and his sister dragged the chest back and forth turned into a family legend with elements of an anecdote. Such a strange legend …"
A crack in time
Tatiana Makarova, a researcher of anomalous phenomena from Togliatti, head of the Togliatti group for the study of AY, shared an equally curious story on the same occasion - gaps in time and space:
“When a person accidentally falls into the location of such a spatial or temporal anomaly, he can find himself anywhere, for example, in the historical past of his world. Or in some other world - say, parallel to ours. Or perpendicular … - she wrote in her letter. - Sometimes it seems to fall out of the usual course of time. His "personal" time can slow down dramatically - in such cases, for example, a few minutes pass on a person's clock, while satellites search for him unsuccessfully for several hours. In ancient tales about elves and fairies, such anomalous phenomena are very well reflected - a person who was carried away by the dance of fairies was sure that only five to ten minutes had passed, while in the real world he was absent for months and even years.
I will not go into the intricacies of scientific hypotheses about the nature of this class of local anomalous phenomena (yes, there are almost none yet). Let me assume that it will be more interesting for you to feel yourself in the place of an eyewitness. I will describe a real story that happened to a real person. But what kind of truth they foreshadow, time will tell. So…
Once upon a time, many centuries ago, a ram tract passed through our places along the coast, along which from year to year they drove hundreds of sheep. It is difficult to say exactly where he passed. Probably along the Volga on a hill. And perhaps its route was quite stretched not only in length, but also in width, abundantly watered with sweat and even marked with the bones of sheep and drovers who died along the way.
Why not admit that the memory of this place still makes itself felt? This idea was prompted by an incident that happened to one of our townspeople - at her request, I will change her name and call her, say, Marina.
In the recent spring, she calmly walked home from the store to Togliatti. It was just the pedestrian hunting season, and the girl, jumping from the cars, crossed the water-filled Primorsky Boulevard from the seventh block to the eighth. Her thoughts, as she herself admitted, were only concerned with how to protect the new raincoat from splashing from under the wheels of passing cars. Not saved. But the way she could not dream in a dream.
Marina managed to move away from the carriageway literally a couple of tens of meters, when she suddenly noticed that something “wrong” was going on around her. Instead of the usual high-rise buildings and wet asphalt, the entire surrounding area was occupied by sheep. They bumped against her legs, the hair, dirty with thorns, rubbed against the new cloak, the bleating almost drowned out the noise of the city that remained somewhere behind. There were thousands of sheep. And it was summer all around! The sun was almost at its zenith, although it had just been almost at sunset. The steppe, dried in the sun, smelled of wormwood - Marina clearly felt its smell, not far away the sheep were driven by the sheep with whips on horseback … But there was also a city. Marina looked back in bewilderment and saw the same wet Primorsky, the same cars, the same houses, only the noise came from there muffled, as if from behind glass.
Several minutes passed. Marina was afraid to budge. She had the feeling that if she takes even one step forward, she will forever remain in this “sheep's” world. And, in general, there was nowhere to step. Somehow she managed to take a step back towards the city, and suddenly everything was gone - the sheep, the steppe, and the sun was again at sunset …
Probably, almost any person in Marina's place would have behaved the same way - not believing himself (it seemed, they say); she forbade herself to think about what had just happened to her. And only a question made her realize that sheep and the steppe are not hallucinations. The mother at home asked in surprise: “Where did you get so many wool and burrs on your cloak?” And only then Marina realized that she was one step away from an incomprehensible reality, but … she returned. Well, how do you explain this?"
Yes, the question, of course, is an interesting one … And that's all - what hypotheses do these quite reliable stories evoke? The first thing that immediately comes to mind is that the guesses are confirmed, and according to other sources, and the undeniable confidence that there are parallel spaces where life and physical states differ from the usual three-dimensional world. Daniil Andreev in his "Rose of the World" talks about this a lot and in detail - the very idea of the book defends the concept of the multidimensionality and multipopulation of space. The writer discusses the multilayer nature of the Universe, when “under each layer is meant a material world, the materiality of which is different from others either in the number of spatial or in the number of time coordinates. Next to us, - writes Andreev, - coexist, for example, adjacent layers … and Time in such layers flows in several parallel streams of different rates.
It seems that he himself has more than once found himself in parallel spaces, although his descriptions sometimes suffer from understatement.
“At the beginning of 1943, I took part in the crossing of the 196th rifle division on the ice of Lake Ladoga and, after a two-day journey across the Karelian Isthmus, entered the besieged Leningrad late in the evening,” Andreev writes. - During the journey through the deserted, dark city to the place of deployment, I experienced a state of "when the night streets were painted somehow unnatural -" severe and gloomy ", and in this space a certain" great demonic entity inspired awe of terror …"
It was then that the defender of Leningrad strengthened his faith in the final victory over the enemy. In the future, both this vision and memories of a similar phenomenon at the Cathedral of Christ the Savior served as an impetus for the writer to explore the plurality of intelligent worlds, to which he devoted the rest of his life.
The world is multidimensional, and sometimes we are somehow able to get into other dimensions - God forbid, with a return! Something like this can be drawn from the stories told. It is possible that some of the readers will remember their special situations …
Gennady BELIMOV