I hesitated to share this story because it sounds implausible, but it did happen, on Friday to be precise, and the scientist-in-me has been trying to explain it away.
So I entice you to don the hat of your choice – dreamer, scientist, detective, alchemist, sceptic, mystic, reader – and explore this mystery:
Three weeks ago, husband Michael’s favourite hat disappeared. Last remembered at a picnic, last seen in my car, nowhere to be found. Michael and I each scoured my car twice, which was very easy to do since my car interior is quite Zen – a beach towel and an empty box for transporting any loose items in the trunk, and an umbrella and one or two hats on the shelf behind the back seats.
Except that for three weeks there has only been one hat, mine.
Until Friday night. Arriving home, we opened the trunk to grab some bags from the box, and …
“Isn’t that your hat?” I asked Michael, as I reached out to lift it from the shelf behind the back seats.
A strange question indeed, because it clearly was Michael’s lost hat, but how could it possibly be just sitting there in full view?
We were both speechless. You can see the hat in the picture, on the shelf in my car. It’s a solid, structured hat, a trilby, not a hat you can squash. It takes up a lot of space. It was unharmed.
Over the weekend I searched for explanations. I bet you’re thinking of plenty now too.
I have the only set of keys. The car is locked when not in use. No-one was around to put the hat there when we weren’t looking. Michael did not find his hat and plant it there for me to discover.
I got quite excited when I thought I’d worked it out. Do you know how a magician pulls a rabbit from a seemingly empty hat? Remembering how it’s done gave me a clue.
My car is a five door model, so when you lift the trunk lid (the fifth door), the shelf behind my back seats swings up. Attached to the back shelf are two black folds of fabric that catch anything sitting on the back shelf. Quite clearly, I reasoned, Michael’s hat had fallen into the folds of fabric about three weeks ago, only to somehow, by a quirk of mechanics and sleight of hand, reappear from the folds and jump back onto the shelf on Friday. As foolproof and scientific as producing a white rabbit from a magician’s top hat.
So I did the experiment. But no. No way could the hat fit into the folds of fabric without being damaged. Science Nil, Mystery 1.
Long ago I learned to have fun with science, to apply reasoning and logic, and then to let go and embrace the mystery. One way or the other, Michael’s hat disappeared into the folds of time, and reappeared three weeks later, and I’m here to tell the tale.
And if you think three weeks is a good disappearing trick, consider this: The day before the hat’s mystery reappearance from the folds of time, I found a fat envelope in our PO Box mail addressed to both Michael and I. Opening the envelope, I saw money peeping out between folds of paper. The sender explained that the money was payment for an invoice she had just found in a pile of stuff – from five and a half years ago! Money she – and we – had long forgotten, now appearing from the folds of time.
Waking life can be stranger than dreams, but if you look closely, you’ll see recurring patterns in both. In dream analysis these are called motifs. My waking life motif, this week, has been ‘things appearing from the folds of time’.
Open your eyes. What’s the recurring motif in your waking life right now? Why might this be?
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