https://www.tiktok.com/@blindzactheallfather/video/7621673288472792333

Watch the video, then come back to read this. I have a story to tell you. I’ve never put much stock in the concept of “timelines” and the ability to go between different realities. However, one cannot discount the urban legend of Mandela effects - from Berenstein Bears orBerenstain Bears to “Luke, I am your father,” or “No, I am your father;” and which celebrity has died a thousand times cough Richard Simmons cough. There has to be a reason why so many people remember iconic things differently. These instances aren’t like some crime that was committed and each witness is recounting what happened through their own perspective. These are instances where people’s realities were being changed right before their eyes. Richard Simmons was my first foray into, “Waitaminute, he died last year” territory. Whenever I hear of a celebrity dying, I always fact check it. Too many times I got duped by a repost from a friend on Facebook into thinking someone died when it was indeed a hoax. My feels can’t take that kind of swinging, so I always check the information against three or four reputable sources. Richard Simmons, the 80’s exercise guru; the man who tried to teach us to love ourselves and be comfortable in our own skin, had died. Then, a year later, it was posted he had died of an overdose over the weekend and thus began my descent into what the hell a Mandela Effect was. Then the whole thing about Fruit of the Loom and the cornucopia - some people insisted it had fruit coming out of the trumpet shaped squash, some insisted it did not. I had a pair of very old Fruit of the Loom underwear. There was a cornucopia. It didn’t really shake my world because I’m used to brands changing their design logos - especially those that have had the same brand imaging for three decades. It wasn’t until I saw the Berenstein Bears being misspelled that I took a heavier look. That series of children’s books are very near and dear to me. They are also part of a core memory of my learning to spell at a young age - “when two vowels go walking together, the first one says it’s name.” I had pronounced the name as Beren-steen Bears, not Beren-stain Bears to my first grade teacher. That’s when I was first introduced to the idiocy of the English language and all its stupid exceptions. The spelling was never -stain, but rather -stein (as in a beer mug); however, upon meeting others in my later years, that thinking didn’t hold true for everyone else. The same with Darth Vader’s sentence in the climatic scene between him and Luke Skywalker. I have watched that movie thousands of times, 200 of it with the closed captioning on and it has always sounded and the captioning shown said, “Luke, I am your father.” The most recent time I watched the movie (and the last, to be honest), both the captioning and what I heard were “No, I am your father.” My mind was blown and I told my husband about it and a fifteen minute conversation ensued in where I was the crazy one - it had always been “No, I am your father,” even after the remaster. I discounted what my husband had said because he was never really a Star Wars fan to begin with; until years later when others began reporting the same thing.

Sweet. The entire world was going insane.

As the years went on and the Mandela effects grew more numerous, it was impossible to keep track of them all so I pretty much ignored them. One would lose their mind trying to remember every little detail of every little thing, and arguing about something that, honestly holds no true significance in anyone’s day-to-day life, is stupidly immature. At least to me. Then the damned thing started affecting spelling and that’s when I said “I don’t fucking think so.” I pride myself on spelling correctly - not so much grammar anymore, but by golly if there’s a misspelled word, it bugs the crap out of me. The word in question is cancellation or cancelled. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to fight with spell check, auto correct and every other spelling apparatus to prove that I haven’t been spelling that word wrong my entire life. If it were receive, I’d understand - I’d missed that one in a spelling bee while in grade school, and have had to correct it myself any time I’ve written or typed it over the following years. However, cancellation has always been spelled with two frigging sticks, not one. When it first happened - it had to have been during a Mercury retrograde, because my dinosaur of a word processor threw it up as an error. This same word processor had allowed the spelling to exist for years before it finally said, “Nope. It’s c-a-n-c-e-l-a-t-i-o-n” even when the damned TV Guide uses it with two ells. When Google became a serious search engine, I looked up the proper spelling and even Google was wrong - the word is spelled the way my word processor spelled it. Unfortunately for both, I kept my papers from school and ‘lo and behold! the way I spelled the word was correct. So what the hell? This caused a discussion with family and friends who know of my spelling prowess and even the smarter than me family members agreed I spelled it correctly; however the smarter than me friends said I was spelling it incorrectly. So, every time I spell the word, I google it for the correct spelling and every time, it’s been cancelation. Just now I googled it, and Google now says both are correct (it didn’t say that last week when I was sending an email). It depends on if you’re in the United States (American English) or if you’re in England (British English). Well when the fuck did that happen because I was taught it was spelled one way and for ten years, I was led to believe I had been misspelling it this entire time?!?

See? Mandela effects cause you to question your reality like some sort of sadistic narcissist. Personally, I think they are something more. Too many stories of people saying “I thought it was a deer” when they shot a person; too many people say they never saw the pedestrian or the truck that T-boned them - and in some of those the person should have died given the way the accident happened. I always discounted those stories as “Yeah, sure, a deer wears a fluorescent orange vest” or, because the ones involving the cars/people usually happened to younger individuals, “Maybe y’all shouldn’t be texting while you’re driving” or the person was making up a fanciful story about a near death experience. Until something happened to me in the fall of 2021 that I couldn’t explain at the time.

I had just gotten off of work at the local Dollar General. It was around 10:15pm. I stopped at the gas station across the street and got caught by the chatty assistant manager (and bitchy - Lord that woman complained about everything). I don’t know how long she held me captive with her whining, but I was finally able to leave. I stopped at the stop sign. There was a car on the other side of the highway approaching the sign. I looked left. No cars coming. I looked right. There were no headlights at the top of the hill and no lights at the intersections near it to indicate there would be possible oncoming traffic. I had plenty of time to toodle my little Spark safely across the intersection. I slowly accelerate, as is my usual driving habit. I almost get across the street when I see bright light fill my car from the right. It was a car that materialized out of frigging nothing. There was no horn blaring, no tires squealing from brakes being slammed, no going into the other lane to avoid me, which told me they aren’t seeing me because they’re on their phone. I slammed on the gas and flew the rest of the way across, narrowly missing the SUV that shouldn’t have been there. My car had never accelerated that quickly, but it had to have, because the only other explanation was either a hellacious tail wind blew me clear of the oncoming car (again, that should not have been that close), or something pulled me forward. I remember glancing at the driver of the car stopped at the intersection to see if they saw what had happened. Their look was very nonplussed - like, they didn’t just witness someone’s near death experience. Shaken, I dismissed it as I was tired from work, drained from the yapper at the gas station, and missing my late husband something fierce. I must have mistaken what I saw - there’s no logical explanation for a car suddenly appearing out of thin air. A few days later, I met the man that would become my ex three years later. While I was with him, the only inconsistencies were in his words and actions - neither lined up with the other. However, once I left him for good, started delving into the why of myself (he can figure his own shit out), and started piecing myself back together, that’s when things started happening again. Or they were happening while I was with him and I just never noticed the signs.

For starters, locking my keys in my car. Now, for those who know me, that’s not noteworthy. I spent a good part of my marriage’s early years locking my keys in my car; calling my husband for assistance and him getting pissy with me for doing it. Which was why for the longest time, I just stopped locking my car regardless of where I was at; until I broke up with my ex. For starters, my car was a lime green Spark. If anyone stole it, it was gonna be noticeable. But, there was some fishy shit going on - a brand new pack of cigarettes were found the next morning down to two; a window left opened a crack and rain got in (the back window - I never used those); tires needing air constantly for no reason; his “friend” parking her car next to mine for no reason when there were spots closer to the building. That was when I started locking it again - I trust his “friend” and the company she keeps about as far as I can throw the lot of them. Anyway, I was back to my habit of locking my keys in my car - nothing new. What was new was locking my keys in the car while it was running - especially when I know I had put my keys in my pocket when I closed the driver side door. Not just once. Thrice. Three frigging times. Apparently it wasn’t confined to just the car either. I had locked myself out of my house at least five times in as many weeks. I was also “forgetting” to put refrigeratable items away. I know I put the sour cream back in the fridge after my taco dinner; but there it was, sitting on the counter warm and gross the next morning. Now my leaving cold items out isn’t noteworthy. I’m pretty good at remembering what I did and calling myself on my forgetfulness. However, when I distinctly remember putting the mozzarella cheese on the top shelf of the fridge next to my spaghetti leftovers in front of the strawberry jelly and the next morning I find it next to the sink it makes me a tad paranoid - I was no where near the sink when I put the shredded mozzarella on my plate for my pepperoni snack. I was also absolutely sure I put my work clothes in the dryer before bed - my black sock next to the dryer was my evidence, however there were no clothes in the dryer. They were still in the washing machine. And they smelled like I hadn’t taken them out for a couple of days. Again, not something that isn’t unheard of with me, however the black sock that was slightly damp in front of the dryer told me something wasn’t right. That’s when I went down the timeline rabbit hole.

Now, not all “What the fuck?” moments were necessarily “bad.” Twice I had wanted a bowl of cereal for a snack before bed and my milk had expired. I don’t remove it from the fridge as a means to remind myself to get more (I lose lists and rarely look at my phone for that kind of thing) and the next day, before bed and forgetting the milk was expired, I had set my heart on a bowl of cereal. I poured the cereal in the bowl and opened the fridge suddenly remembering the milk was expired and I forgot to get more that day after work. I looked at the expiration date. It expired in a week. And the carton was half empty. NEVER have I drank a quarter of a gallon of milk with an extended expiration date - usually the quarter gallon has been drank three days before and I spend time scolding myself for wasting money and food. I was hungry, so I didn’t look the gift horse in the mouth. I thought I just didn’t see the date correctly and continued on. The second time this happened I didn’t question it: it was definitely a timeline shift. The milk had already gone bad. I smelled it. I tasted it. It was gross. Not chunky gross, but it on it’s way to that. I made the mental note to get more milk and LEFT IT OUT instead of leaving it in the fridge as is my usual s.o.p. I got another half gallon, went to the fridge and found a different half gallon in the door. I looked at the island where I had put the soured milk. It wasn’t there. I put the new milk away, grabbed the “expired” milk and looked at the date. It had four days left. I smelled it. Not soured. I tasted it. Not soured. I checked the date again - why I don’t know, but my brain was desperate for a logical explanation. It wasn’t expired; it still had four days left until it did go bad. I just shook my head, thanked the universe and proceeded to freeze the milk for baking and cooking. By this point, I was just going to go with the flow. I double check to see if I have my car keys before I close my locked door; I do a sweep of the kitchen before I go to bed at night; I keep a few extra cans of tuna fish on hand in case I run out of catfood (and if I don’t feed them to the cat, I have something to eat); I stop closing the back door tightly while I was outside so I was never locked out of my house (perk of living an old home - doors that require extra oomph to close).

Now, I tell you all of that to tell you this: The thing that started my life’s upheaval and turmoil (almost getting T-boned by a phantom/ghost car) led to essentially six years worth of tower moments, pain, trauma, growth, transmutation, and integration happened again almost two months ago. The same thing that happened in 2021 happened on the second anniversary of my decision to give my relationship with my ex a fighting chance before I walked away (which happened a month later). I wasn’t really thinking about that significance at the time - I had only noticed what day it was when I was writing in my journal that night. No, on that “anniversary” I was just jamming out to my tunes, having a pretty good start to my day. I woke up bright-eyed and bushy tailed; meaning I had no one else’s energy on me. I had a good work out that morning; meaning I actually wanted to get onto the rowing machine rather than forcing myself to do it. The dog had good poops and the cat wasn’t loudly complaining about whatever she complains about and I was able to enjoy hot coffee in peace before work. Like I said, it was a good start to my day. On my way to work, I stopped at the intersection. Looked left. Twice because of the hill - it had become my habit since that fateful night five years ago. No cars coming. Looked right. No cars coming. There were no cars stopped at the stop sign across the highway. I was literally the only car on the highway. I took my turn, slow and easy as I have always done before. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a goddamned dump truck coming from the right from out of fucking nowhere. I wasn’t in their lane, so I slammed on my brakes as they barrelled through the intersection (a lot faster than the 55mph speed limit, and the trucks normally governed speed limit) and dodged getting T-boned again. After that, the “shifts” have been more “fortunate” than “unfortunate.” I ran out of catfood one morning I bought a few cans when I got home and when I put them away I found two more cans already on the pantry shelf. They weren’t there that morning. I ran out of hair conditioner and looked in the closet knowing full well I had more shampoo but not conditioner, yet I find one lone bottle of conditioner tucked in among the other shampoos. I desperately needed to shave and I only had a dull razor. Upon accepting I would have to shave with a dull razor if I wanted to that badly, I opened the linen drawer and found a completelly new pack of razor heads. How they wound up in the wrong drawer I do not know, but I accepted the gift. I forgot I needed to clean my makeup brushes and found a few that I didn’t even know I owned so I could wear some makeup to give myself a little pick up. I accepted the gift and a day later, washed my brushes. I needed a lighter to light my cigarette in my car and couldn’t find one in any of my pockets. After making the decision to just get one at the gas station - I didn’t really want to, but I accepted the fact I forgot my lighter and if I wanted a cigarette that badly, I’d need a way to make fire. I found one in one of the MANY cubbies and shelves in the dash of my car when my phone wouldn’t fit in when it usually does. There are more instances of “fortunate” events happening, but I’m sure you get the gist.

I noticed after the near miss two months ago that things I wanted and thought about were coming to fruition. Not wanting to work with someone because I didn’t have the energy to deal with them that particular day, but accepting that if I did, I’d do my best to keep my own energy in check. The person missed their flight. I was hankering for a coffee one morning while I was sitting in my car before I clocked in; my boyfriend surprised me with a frappuccino from McDonald’s. I was feeling pretty lucky and bought some scratch off lottery tickets - I won pretty big (the amount you don’t advertise because then everyone is your “best friend”). I wondered about my adult child and how they were doing, and I received an email about them going live on one of their social platforms. Sure the live was at 2am and I didn’t see the email until later, but that was physical proof he was alive (because the little shit learned how to shield his energy from me and I can’t find him when I meditate anymore. I’m so proud of him,<3). And money was magically falling into my pockets. Customers were tipping at work when I wrapped their bouquets in paper for them - which was something we offer free of charge. I stopped telling them they shouldn’t feel obligated since it was a free service because they all just either left before I could give them their change or they left the money tucked under the mat on the counter. Instead, I just accept the tips with gratitude, send good vibes to the customer and the recipient of the flowers and put the tips on my ancestral altar for my ancestors to manifest my good vibes towards the customer for me. It must be working because there’s about $100 on the altar and this has been going on for the last two months.

In addition to the manifestations, I noticed after that “closing cycle” near miss is my intuition is becoming louder and my gifts are coming in more “upgraded” if that makes sense. To put it in a game analogy, it’s like having Cure 1 spell and once you reach a certain experience level, you get Cure 2. One of my gifts is clairalience - smelling things that aren’t there. It’s not as well known as clairvoyance or clairsentience, but it exists. Smelling a scent that reminds you of a departed loved one - that’s clairalience. Except it’s not always roses and Grandma. Try smelling foul odors out of nowhere and you think it’s coming from you so you ask those around you, “Do you smell piss?” or “Do I stink?” just for them to look at you oddly and say no. Lately it’s been dirt - either someone is casting bad mojo towards me or my ancestors are trying to get my attention because the last time I smelled this smell, I kept forgetting shit when I was leaving my house. Something was definitely trying to keep me out of harm’s way because on my way into work, there was a bad accident that had happened before I got there. Right after that, I warded my name and any time someone sends bad mojo my way, I gain and they lose. Just earlier today I smelled old dirt and found a $20 bill in the pocket of my winter coat that I was putting into the wash - so, if you lost $20, don’t lie about me. Another gift I have is clairaudience - it’s one of my stronger ones and one that I use to help facilitate channeling. Mostly it’s through music - the whole ‘song stuck in my head’ kind of thing. A song pops in my head and instantly I feel someone’s energy associated with that song. If it’s someone I know, I pull cards to see what the hell is going on, but if it’s unfamiliar energy, I usually just do a TikTok video and let the universe guide it to whomever needed to see it. Now? The upgraded version is the song that is stuck in my head when I wake up if I wake up with someone else’s energy on me. And it’s usually songs I’ve never heard before, so finding it was difficult at first. In a moment of frustration I said, “Could you at least give me the damned chorus?” Two seconds later, my 6am alarm (tied to Spotify) came on and played the chorus of the song that I woke up with. This doesn’t only apply to my wake ups. This kind of stuff now happens during the day. There I am, just making flower arrangements when a song pops in my head, then, to make sure I hear it, it plays over the speaker system at work; or I’m driving and it pops in my head and then comes over the Spotify. I’m also hearing quiet whispers. I haven’t been able to hear them clearly during meditation, but they’re there in the back of my mind. Not sure what they want to say, but that’s all I need; more voices in my head.

I thought my claircognizance would’ve upgraded from just the “knowing” part to actually me getting to see shit, but so far, no. However my clairsentience is going off the charts - as I said, my intuition is getting louder and one of those ways of getting louder is through my body. Usually, when I touch something that I shouldn’t be touching, I get a jolt up my arm that stops right at my elbow. It’s not like an electrical shock, but more the aftershock of touching a hot barbed wire fence. Now, if I even go somewhere I shouldn’t be or be around someone or something I shouldn’t be around, my body goes into full “old person breakdown mode.” Joints get achy, feet start hurting, limbs feel heavy - it’s like the frigging flu, but you feel fine. It used to be confined to just places and things. Now it’s with people, and I think it’s more like an early warning system. I have yet to master keeping my energy to myself on a prolonged basis. Frankly, I don’t want to. However, because of my mindset, it opens my energy up to vampires, siphons and sludge. Before, interacting with those kinds of people left me tired, drained and wondering what the hell happened and with who. Now, if someone just approaches me, any slight ache I get, and immediately my shield goes up. I do need to work on my facial expression though, because I was told I was starting to get my “resting bitch face” back. So now I have to learn how to fake smile again.

My clairempathy is making a comeback. For awhile, while I was learning how to shield my energy, it took a backseat and only my empathy remained. If you were around me, I can tell your mood. If you weren’t anywhere near me, I wouldn’t know what kind of emotional state you were in. Now, yeah…yesterday was like a Kansas spring. Every season within 24 hours, except human emotion edition. Imagine laughing hysterically, crying from grief, screaming in anger and feeling joy all at the same time. No wonder I had a massive headache and slept for 12 hours.

So, if you’re going through your own personal Mandela effects, you just might be shifting timelines. I don’t mean parallel universes (although it could hypothetically be possible - I don’t understand quantum physics), but becoming more aligned with who you truly are, your “higher self.” My advice for those of you going through it?

Ride the wave. There’s no point in fighting it. Figure out how to keep the unfortunate events from happening too often, or learn from them; feel gratitude for the fortunate events; but don’t put much stock in one or the other because they both happen for a reason. I say go with the flow, but honestly, in the last two months, I did more ‘grow’ than flow; and once I stopped putting so much emphasis on either one, the “fortunate” events happened more often. You’ll feel like you’re going crazy. Trust me, you’re not. You’re just getting an alignment.