In high school, I was a member of the varsity teams in both basketball and volleyball. Being somewhat athletic in my prime, I have a tendency to challenge myself when it comes to different kinds of physical activities.
There was a time at Canada’s Wonderland where a new water activity was being promoted as a must try attraction for the summer. It was a man-made, machine controlled, giant tidal wave. I was watching the attraction from a short distance and was instantly drawn like a magnet.
The first couple of waves were already high enough but I managed to surface. Having gained some confidence, I decided to go for the giant tidal wave. I had underestimated the force, height and duration of the tidal-wave and found myself struggling to come up for air.
I remember trying to rise up as fast as I can, thinking the water surface was within my reach at any time now. But the surface was nowhere to be reached as waves rose above another wave. The thought of drowning entered my consciousness as the need for air would become life and death in a matter of seconds.
While still submerged and struggling, I suddenly felt a physical force lifted me by the shoulder area and I was instantly standing at the shallow end. I looked up and saw a big burly man staring down beside me with a wide grin on his face.
I remember being puzzled because it felt as if I was suddenly transported from underneath a giant wave to the shoreline without the passage of time.
Looking back decades later, I’m also thinking this man must have been ten feet tall to be able to do what he did for me that day.
The second story of this nature happened during the early morning hours on Bridgeport Road in Richmond, B.C. I have a vivid recollection of the time and place because it was the week before my sister’s wedding. I was given the derelict duty of picking up the out-of-town guests at the airport.
I should tell you that I’ve been accused of having a lead foot when it comes to my driving habit. I should also tell you that there were no drugs or alcohol involved that day.
It was on my way to the airport when I must have been in some kind of accident. I was speeding as expected and recalled my car having spun around. It appeared from memory that I could have been in a head-on collision, or possibly had another car hit me. Or perhaps my car had hit a post or something of that nature.
There were already cars on the road despite the early morning hour. Something stark had happened but I had no details to recall from my memory bank. All I remember was seemingly waking up from some horrific nightmare. When I opened my eyes, everything was back to normal on the road with my hands at the steering wheel of the car. I was perplexed as I continued on the way to my destination.
The simple explanation was that I was hallucinating or had a bad-trip, day dream experience. I would have accepted these accounts as well except for one big difference; there was a witness. My brother was also in the car with me. We looked at each other stunned and bewildered. He experienced exactly what I experienced.
Keep in mind that these two events happened in my early and mid-twenties. I never gave it the thought and attention they deserved until other out of the ordinary encounters began happening more frequently. But they happened much later in life.
