The hundreds of first-hand accounts of reality shifts (aka:
mind-matter interaction MMI, quantum jumping, glitches in the Matrix) on
this and the following pages have been collected and shared through Cynthia
Sue Larson's RealityShifters since 1999. Special issues focusing on
particular types of reality shifts (such as: the Dead seen Alive Again,
Seeing Loved Ones Before They Arrive, Invisibility, Walking through Walls,
etc.) can be found by browsing through the RealityShifters
archives and subscribing to the (free) monthly ezine. Hundreds of stories
are reported here in this "Your RealityShifter Stories" section of this web
site, and the phenomenon is documented in the best-selling book, Reality Shifts: When Consciousness Changes the
A Telekinetic Moment
When I was a young man living in Cincinnati, Ohio, I lived
at a place called the Fenwick Club, where I became fast
friends with a psychiatrist I called Doc who was in the
final stages of his residency. One night, after Doc and I
had gone out someplace, I was driving us back to the club
when we both got thirsty and decided to stop and get a
drink in the rougher section of town. Being a former Marine,
I felt somewhat indestructible, although I knew my 5'9" of
height on a 160 pound frame didn't instill much fear in anyone.
Doc and I were both wearing suits, and for the first time
in my life I was ridiculed in a worker's bar because of what
I was wearing. One man in particular became belligerent, and
decided to teach me some respect. What the fool cannot
understand, he ridicules, believing it grants him superiority
rather than the latent idiocy he so freely demonstrates.
When the man stood up, and started for me, I looked at him
and said, "Men like you amaze me while at the same time,
you thoroughly irritate me. You get a few drinks in you and
think you can whip the world. Well, I'm here to tell you
that you need to go back, sit down, and shut up." According
to Doc, I simply pointed my finger at the man, and he was
bodily thrust back in the direction of his seat. Actually,
he overshot the seat and ended up in a heap on the floor.
He hadn't gotten close enough for me to touch him yet.
Doc was in awe, and looked at me strangely after it was over.
He was trained to observe in a detached manner, and insisted
on talking with me about what had just happened -- I'd
pointed my finger at a man, and he'd shot across the room as
if I'd pushed him with all my strength.
I would have dismissed the entire incident as hallucination,
except for the fact that Doc had a medical degree and was a
trained psychiatrist and observer. He forced me to believe
that I did what I did. For some reason, this "power" was
random... not controlled.
Waiting for a Friend
New York, New York
About two years ago, I arranged to meet someone at a very
well-known spot near the Manhattan ferry terminal. This was
a place we usually met all the time, so it wasn't new to
either of us. After I'd been there for thirty minutes and
still hadn't seen any sign of my friend, I decided to call
her to see what was up. She answered her phone and
immediately asked, "Where have you been? I've been here
for 30 minutes!" I told her I had also been there at
exactly the same time that she was there -- and she thought
I was lying, until someone else told her that, indeed, I
had been there for a half hour.
Palm Springs, California
When I was about eight or nine years old, we had a middle-
aged Ukrainian mail carrier whose name was Zenaida. My
whole family and I were very good friends with her, and
sometimes, when she brought mail, we would invite her in
for a minute to give her some juice or an apple. She would
agree, and after some small talk, we would send her on her
Zenaida was very friendly, and my whole family would always
say, "Look, Zenaida is here!" She was like an aunt to me.
Then, we moved away and many years went by. I grew up and
went to study for a bachelor's degree in Elementary
Education in Puerto Rico, hoping to become a bilingual
While I was taking a "Psychology of Education" course at
the university of Puerto Rico in the suburbs of San Juan,
I noticed that we had a female student in our class who
was an absolute carbon copy of Zenaida. The only difference
was that my classmate was Puerto Rican, and about 20-30
years younger than Zenaida. The likeness was so striking
that I wanted to walk up to her and say, "Zenaida, this
is me! Don't you remember me?"
After that, the teacher walked in and called the roll.
He called my name and other students' names. Then he
called out: "Zenaida Lopez Rofriguez"! The girl that was
a carbon copy of Zenaida stood up and said "Present!"
Of course, when I told her about the other Zenaida, she
did not know anything about our mail carrier, and her
family was Puerto Rican through and through.