SPECTERS

Brno. March 17, 1971. Just before midnight.

I was celebrating my eighteenth birthday—my first day as an adult. I had invited my high school classmates to a party at our apartment. My parents had left us the place to ourselves, and the party was in full swing.

Right in the middle of the fun (the boys were dunking us girls in the bathtub one by one and pressing our wet bodies against the wall to leave silhouettes), the doorbell rang.

Still soaking wet, I went downstairs to answer the front door.

An elderly man was standing alone on the dark sidewalk. I recognized him only by sight; he lived somewhere in the neighborhood.

He was holding an old book.

He looked at me and said,

"My time will come soon, and I'd like to give this book to someone."

It was The Revolt of the Angels by Anatole France. Before I could say a single word, he turned around and walked away.

I remained standing in the doorway, bewildered, the book still in my hands.

A few days later, I asked the neighbors where the old man had lived. I wanted, at the very least, to thank him.

They told me he had died several days earlier.

To this day, I don't know what happened that night. Was it a sign? Or just an extraordinary coincidence?

It wasn't a dream. The book was real—old, well worn, and clearly read many times. I still have it in my home today.

      *****

Twelve years later, after emigrating to the Netherlands, I experienced another series of events that, judge for yourselves, seemed to come straight out of a fantasy novel. 

London –  Between Chance and Destiny   

1982. My first trip beyond the borders of my new homeland—to Great Britain.

Oxford Street. Central London. Friday evening. The weeks before Christmas.

Our five-day visit was coming to an end. My friend and I were sitting in a small café near the coach stop for Amsterdam, quietly sipping our coffee.

Everything that mattered—my newly issued Dutch passport, my money, and our coach tickets—was in a single carry-on bag at my feet.

The coach arrived. I reached down for my bag...

It was gone.   Someone had stolen it.

In a single moment, everything changed.

In a panic, I turned to my friend.  "Go without me. I have to sort this out."

She offered me money, but I refused. Before I could fully grasp what I was doing, the coach pulled away.

I was left alone in a cold, rain-soaked London.

No passport. No money. No way to get home. Just the long winter coat I was wearing.

Not a penny in my pocket.

WIZARD

The days that followed were difficult. It took nearly two weeks for the authorities to verify my identity and issue a replacement passport. During the day, I tried to escape the cold London weather by wandering through museums, libraries, and, above all, bookshops.

It was there that I discovered a world I could never have imagined growing up in communist Czechoslovakia.

One afternoon, I was standing at the very back of a quiet bookshop. Darkness was already falling over London. In my hands was a book about witchcraft, and I was completely absorbed in it.

Have you ever had that strange, unsettling feeling that someone is watching you—even before you turn around?

I looked up.

A man was standing motionless in the shadows just behind me, watching me intently.

He looked as though he had stepped straight out of the book I was holding. Long hair. A wide-brimmed hat. An unwavering gaze.

For a brief moment, I believed I was standing face to face with a real wizard.

In my state of mind—alone in a foreign country, with no certainty, no money, and no sense of security in a gloomy, anonymous city—that apparition from the pages of the book suddenly felt frighteningly real.

I closed the book and hurried away.

THE third BOOK   

Someone stopped me in the street.

A couple of friendly young men.

In that cold, indifferent London, I was longing to meet someone kind.

They quickly aroused my curiosity. They asked me to complete a personality test and gave me a copy of Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health. They were remarkably warm, understanding, and welcoming. Before long, they invited me to spend the weekend at one of their retreats.

Fortunately, an inner warning told me not to go. I declined their invitation.

Only later did I discover that they were members of the Church of Scientology.

Today I understand that people in situations like mine—open-minded and curious, yet lonely and searching for support—can easily become targets for groups that offer simple answers to life's most difficult questions.

In extreme circumstances, reality can begin to resemble an apparition, and a vulnerable mind may gradually surrender to the illusion that everything happens according to some predetermined plan. Ordinary encounters no longer seem accidental; instead, they begin to feel like pieces of a larger design.

THE  NIGHT 

Looking back, my life in London felt like drifting through a dense fog.

I stayed with friends, but after a few days they would send me on to people I had never met before. I was passed from one address to another like a parcel. Whoever was hosting me simply took me along to whatever they happened to be doing after work.

One evening, I found myself at a farewell party in a luxurious villa on the outskirts of London. The host was a wealthy young man who was flying to America the following morning for several months. After he left, the house would stand empty and locked.

Near the end of the evening, I went upstairs to use the bathroom. It was a tiny room with a small window.

As I reached for the door handle to leave, it came off in my hand.

The door wouldn't open.

Panic.

I was trapped inside a stranger's house, with no way out.

Downstairs, the last guests were saying their goodbyes. The party was ending.

A terrifying thought raced through my mind.

In a few minutes, everyone would leave.

No one would notice I was missing.

No one would come looking for me.

The next morning, the owner would lock the house and fly to America.

To this day, I can't remember how I got out of that bathroom.

It's as if that moment simply disappeared into the fog.

Perhaps another apparition from those strange London days came to my rescue.

Reflection

There are moments when we become aware of how limited our ordinary perception of reality really is.

Modern physics—especially quantum theory—has shown that, at its most fundamental level, the universe does not behave as simply or as predictably as classical physics once assumed. Concepts such as probability, the role of the observer, and quantum phenomena (such as quantum entanglement * )  remind us that our everyday intuition does not always reflect the true nature of reality.

This does not mean that science explains ghosts, apparitions, or other supernatural experiences. It does, however, suggest something important: our understanding of reality is still incomplete, and the universe is far more complex than our everyday experience would lead us to believe.

*    Quantum entanglement   is a quantum mechanical phenomenon where two or more particles become deeply interconnected, forming a single shared system. Because of this linkage, the physical state of one particle instantly dictates the state of the other. This instantaneous coordination occurs regardless of the physical distance separating them, even if they are light-years apart.

Have you ever experienced something similar?

I'd love to hear your story. Feel free to share it in the comments or write to me.

Copyright Notice   All photographs featured in this blog are my original work and are protected by copyright ©.

Please do not reproduce, copy, or use them in any form without my prior written permission.