Best of Reddit’s Glitch the Matrix Board:

We have a breakfast laid on at work every morning, just a simple buffet of eggs, bacon what have you. Nothing huge and it’s really only to feed about a dozen people or so. I am usually one of the first guys from my team to get to work and the kitchen was deserted as usual. I walked into the little kitchen, there was a ceramic egg tray thing with 12 eggs in it, like the bottom half of an egg carton with a socket for each egg. All spaces are filled with warm freshly boiled eggs.

I take one, walk over to the garbage bin, shuck the shell then I walk back over to the food and stop dead. There are 12 eggs in the tray again. No one entered the room while I was peeling the thing. I touched the mystery egg it was the same temp as the other eggs around it.

Not a big thing, nothing major, but something very strange. Given one does not get presented with strange eggs from a parallel universe every day I peeled and ate that one too.


My grandpa was one of those jaded, “I don’t have emotions” kind of guys, even more so after his wife (my grandma) passed away naturally.

One Thanksgiving night, he just stood up and start talking to everyone very closely and intimately, hugging people, telling them he is proud and loved them, and that grandma was so happy to have the family she does; just basically acting 180 degrees opposite from his normal self.

That night, a burglar broke into his house and shot my grandpa dead when he tried to stop him from stealing a jewelry box from the living room (confirmed by the burglar, as written in the police report). We opened that box up when we were clearing out his house, and it had his and grandma’s wedding bands in it…

which creeped all of us out BIG TIME because he lost his wedding ring about a decade earlier.

I’m not sleeping tonight after recalling this story 🙁


This will probably get buried .. When I was around 20, a few years ago, I kept having dreams about a woman with long black hair named Aroura [ pronounced A-roar-uh) . They were different dreams but for some reason, her distinct face and name always ended up in them. It got to the point where I would wake up frustrated and confused, trying to google her name or find out how I was connected to her. After a few months she stopped showing up and I dismissed it, thinking my brain was just being a “scumbag.”

Fast forward a few years later, Halloween 2009, I’m in the car with a friend stopped at a gas station. I’m about to pull out and merge onto a highway when I get a phone call from a random number, so I stop the car but no one answered. There was a person behind me who grew impatient, honked at me, and then swerved in front of me instead of waiting for 2 seconds for me to move. Second they get on the highway, some silver civic loses control of their wheel and crashes into the car that swerved in front of me. I called the cops and waited at the gas station for them to come. Turns out the drivers of both cars died. It 100% would of been me if I hadn’t of got that phone call. Called it back a few hours later out of gratitude and curiosity, rang 3 times and went to voicemail. “Hi, you’ve reached aurora, please leave your name and number.” Never had goosebumps like that in me life.

Called it again the next day, because I was that confused about the whole situation.. Some woman answers, we get to talking, I tell her my entire story including the dreams I had. She tells me she doesn’t know how I got her number and that she never called me as far as she remembers. Weird. Ask her if she has a facebook to confirm if she is in fact the woman in my dreams.

Check her facebook, holy fuck, it’s her.

If that’s not a glitch in the matrix then I’m just bat shit crazy.


One time I spilled a bowl of Spaghetti-Os, and as I was cleaning them, I noticed that one was on the ceiling. 9 feet up.

I didn’t even DROP the bowl. I just tipped it over onto the counter by mistake… but sure enough, a single O was right there, stuck to the ceiling.


My dad had this little toy monkey that he used to call his “favorite child” and tease me and my siblings with it. Not in a bad way, but it was really frustrating to us and we spent hours trying to steal it from him.

Well anyways, one day we finally got it and threw it into the garbage after drawing on it and mangling it for a bit. We My dad laughed and searched for it a bit but basically figured we had thrown it out and gave up after a week or so.

Anyways, a few years later (when I was about 17), I’m walking down the street in Toronto (I don’t live in TO, was just visiting friends) and see this little orange object on the side of the road. When I walk over to it, I pick it up and see that it was the EXACT SAME FUCKING MONKEY. It even had the black sharpie lines on it from when we drew all over it. I honestly cannot even come up with the chances of that happening, especially considering our garbage is sent to a local dump and is nowhere near Toronto.


I used to work in a building that had three levels of sub-basements, with the piece of lab equipment I typically worked on in the lowest basement. I had the only key. There was a wired phone in there, and I did work late some nights… but not this night.

I was sleeping alone in my apartment when I woke up to a call on my cell phone from my girlfriend at 3 AM, she was in hysterics and asking why I scared her. Apparently she received a call from that basement phone just a minute earlier, with someone who sounded like me slowly repeating her name, until crackling and fading out. My apartment was 10 miles away from work. I thought she was lying, but I saw the 3 AM call from the basement phone logged on her cell myself. Still freaks me the fuck out.


My friend used to put up a recurring away message, back in the day when everybody had AIM. She was a Beatles super-fan and put up a sentiment from John and Yoko: “Acorns for Peace”.

Well, one day I was walking around my college campus thinking about it, but failing to remember the full quote. In my mind, I kept thinking, “Something for peace… something for peace… what the hell is that away message?!”

Right then, some chick on a cell phone walks by me and screams out “ACORNS!!!”

I realize this is not a super freaky story, but it made my day at the time. It’s not every day someone screams out “ACORNS” in your vicinity at the exact right time.


About two years into my relationship with my GF (we’ll call her Susan), I had a dream about my ex. Dream went like this:

I was in my room (at my mother’s house, where I lived at the time) slamming my ex. Balls to the wall sexing it up. I knew I was cheating on Susan, but didn’t care. So in the middle of it, I look over to the window (which you can see the back porch from) and Susan is there, watching us, crying and mortified. I then woke up.

I thought it was a weird dream, but dismissed it. A few days go by and Susan and I are hanging out in my room. She brings up this weird dream she had a few days prior, and describes my exact dream except from her POV looking through the window.


I put Peggy into a trance. She was aware that we were sitting at the far end of the long table and that she was at the other end. She wrote something automatically. Then she automatically folded her paper, folded it again, and automatically slipped it into her handbag. She didn’t notice any of that. All the rest of us did, I put her back in a trance and told her that after she awakened, she would automatically write, “It’s a beautiful day in June.” It was April.

She wrote that and after I showed it to her she said that she didn’t write it and that it wasn’t her handwriting. It certainly wasn’t her handwriting.

The following September she called me long distance from Indiana and said, “A funny thing happened today, and I think you’re connected with it—so I’ll tell you what it is. I emptied my handbag today. I found a wad of paper in it. I opened it and on one side was written, in a strange handwriting, ‘Will I marry Harold?’ It wasn’t my handwriting. I don’t know how that paper got into my handbag. And I have a feeling you’re connected with it. And my only connection with you is that lecture you gave in April at Michigan State University. Do you have any explanation of that piece of paper?”

I said, “I lectured at the university in April; that’s true. Now, were you by chance engaged to get married to anybody then?”

“Oh yes, I was engaged to Bill.”

I said, “Did you have any doubts about your engagement then?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did you ever develop doubts about your engagement to Bill?”

“Oh, last June, Bill and I broke up.”

“What has happened since then?”

“Oh, in July, I married a man named Harold.”

“How long had you known Harold?”

“Oh, I knew him, by sight, during some part of the second semester but had never met him, never talked to him. I didn’t, till I happened to meet him by chance, in July.”

I said, “That handwriting ‘Will I marry Harold?’ was written by you, automatically, in a trance state. Your unconscious mind already recognized that you were going to break off with Bill and that Harold was the man who really appealed to you.” Her unconscious knew, months in advance, that she would break her engagement. The reason she folded it up was that, consciously, she couldn’t stand facing that fact in April.


About 4 or 5 years ago I worked at a Little Caesars Pizza. Usually I would work inside on the pizzas but we had just started up this Monday Madness deal where pizzas were only $4 on Monday so we needed someone to advertise. I was a wild and weird metalhead so I took up the position on Mondays of just going out there, throwing around a sign to get attention, and bring people in for pizza. Not exactly glamorous but I had fun.

One day while I was out there doing my thing I see a van coming straight at me. It jumps the curb and slams in to me and I feel it crush me against the electrical box controlling the street lights. I see a quick flash as the traffic lights flick off then black out.

I gasp and I’m still on the corner and nothing has happened. No van or anything. Well, I was a little shaken up so I decide to pack it up and walk back to the store for a break. I walk no more than 15 feet away from the corner when I hear a crash. I look back and a van just hopped the curb in to the electrical box and I watch the traffic lights flick off.

Needless to say, I took the day off. Still think about that from time to time.


When I was 15 I was incredibly depressed and struggling with my OCD and anxiety. It got to the point that I decided to kill myself. I arranged everything (Note, when, where, how etc.) and waited. I waited about a week until my parents went out to dinner. I attached a note to my door telling my parents not to come in and to just call the police, got dressed in my nicest clothes, showered, did my hair, and put a suicide note in my shirt pocket. My father had a number of guns and I chose one of them to do the deed with — a Beretta 92 handgun or something like that. I went into my bedroom, turned on some music and laid down on my bed. I put the barrel into my mouth, sang a few lines of ‘Freefallin’ through tears and pulled the trigger.

Then it went into a third person type thing where I was just watching myself. I saw myself laying dead on my bed, slumped over and bleeding everywhere. I watched myself lie in my own gore for what seemed like forever. Then suddenly it felt like all the wind get knocked out of me, and I was back in my body.


The gun jammed. I just threw it onto the ground and sobbed into my pillow for hours before cleaning up everything and going to sleep.

I have no idea what happened that day, but I’m more grateful than you can imagine. After that I really made an effort to turn my life around, and it did. It’s scary thinking that I wouldn’t be here right now if it worked.


Staying at friend’s house in rural Vermont. Awesome house, but very creaky with lots of dark corners. I’m in the kitchen, ready to head to bed, and I notice there’s a single light on in the family room loft.

I go up the loft stairs, check the light, and decide to leave it on for the cat.

I head back to the kitchen, grab a cup of water, and remember that cats have awesome night vision.

When I turn back around, the light is already off. I’m slightly spooked, but it’s an old house with bad wiring. I climb the loft stairs and flick the light switch. Nothing happens. I go to check the light bulb and there’s no light bulb in the lamp.



I was walking through my local mall with my friends, we entered a store and were browsing. The female clerk and I glanced at each other and both did an immediate double take. I walked over and talked with her, neither of us could place where we knew each other from…then it hit me. 4th grade. This was the girl that stabbed me in the nose with a pencil in 4th grade. I told her where I remembered her from and you could see it on her face she immediately remembered stabbing me. She started apologizing and talking about how crazy it was to run into me here. I told her not to sweat it. I was a little bastard back then.

Then she asked me what I was doing in Oregon. I figured she thought I moved or something considering I don’t remember her in any of the other grades before or after 4th. I explained I never left Oregon, or Portland for that matter. This really confused her. ‘So you just did 4th grade in Arizona?’ She said….Which confused the shit out of me. I told her I’ve never been to Arizona and did all my schooling in Oregon.

She then told me she’s lived in Arizona her entire life. She had just moved here to start college.

We both remember going to school together and her stabbing me. Apparently we did it from different states though.


About 7 years ago, I lived overseas in the middle east. I played hockey (surprisingly yes, hockey exists there) and naturally made a bunch of friends doing it. Fast forward 7 years to a few days ago in Canada, where I now live.

My roomate’s boyfriend came over and we were talking about setting up a time to get some people together and get a few drinks before he leaves for the summer. I get his number as he’s leaving, and once he’s out the door, I text him my name to give him my number. He texts back “hey, is this really Kuuz?”. I figure he’s just kidding around and I don’t bother responding.

The next morning I was walking downtown with my housemates in a crowd of about 800 people or so (I live in a pretty big city and this was in the middle of downtown during a small street festival) and I bumped into this girl I met once a couple of weeks prior. We exchange the usual niceties and she mentions she’s with some friends that apparently know me. I go to meet them and was shocked to see it was an old hockey buddy from the middle east with whom I haven’t spoken in almost 7 years and his sister. They had just arrived in Canada recently. This is where it gets weird though. We talk for a bit and do the usual catching up, when he mentions, “Hey, I actually got a text from you yesterday”. I thought he was kidding until he pulled out his phone and showed me. Turns out it was the exact text exchange between me and what I thought to be my housemates boyfriend from the day before. So in short, by some ridiculous coincidence, I mistyped my buddy’s number into my phone and texted who turned out to be an old hockey friend that I hadn’t seen or talked to in 7 years who had also just arrived in Canada, then proceeds to bump into him in a huge crowd of people downtown not 12 hours after the initial exchange. What. The. Fuck.


I go to a university in a rather large city and on Thursday mornings I have a lecture at 9:30 in the morning. Well I overslept this morning and it isn’t really a big deal for me because the professor doesn’t take attendance and I just take the notes down over the weekend from her website. No, the strange part about this morning was the fact that I dreamed I was walking on 8th street towards my class. It was very blurry and windy. Like I was there but not really there. I saw one of my friends but kept going without acknowledging him. I suddenly jolted awake, thirty minutes after class started, and saw that I had an unread text message, from the very same friend I saw in my dream which goes as follows: “Was that just you? On 8th street? Or was it your double?”


When I was 9 my father died in a car accident. I was really upset about it for years but eventually managed to kinda block it out of my head. Anyway, i was at the movies with a friend when i was 19 and when we were going in, a little girl ran up to me shouting that she used to be my dad and that she missed me and not to forget. She looked around 10 years old but I’m not sure…. She was with an older woman who apologised and told me the girl had mental issues. I had never seen them before, and i have never seen them since. I still wonder about that a lot!


I work in a call centre, and on my screen, have a list of all the calls I’ve taken during the day. I can see either the number that called me, or if it’s an internal call, the name and their extension number.

This morning I went to answer a call that dropped off immediately. I looked at my call list, and saw that it had come up as a missed call, which is no big deal, and the time listed was 9:23. Then I noticed that I had a second missed call, an internal one: Kylie on 2299. I didn’t remember missing it, so I checked the time: 9:29. I checked what the current time was, and it was still only 9:23.

Not thinking much of it, I brushed it off as a glitch on my system. A few minutes later, I was up at the fax machine, and as I was up my phone started ringing. I walked back over to my desk to try to get the call and could see who it was: Kylie on 2299. The call dropped off before I could get it, and I looked at the time: 9:29.

I called her back and asked if that was the second time she’d called me today, but she said it was only the first. Once I’d checked my call list again, there was only the one missed call. It just listed itself 6 minutes early…


About 10 years ago, I drove a piece of shit 1990 Honda Civic. It was black and the front bumper was all fucked up. For whatever reason, I also had a Rasta front license plate. One night, I was driving to the airport to fly out to Chicago (from Kansas City International) for Thanksgiving. As I was driving, I noticed a strange white car that was like no car I’d seen before. It was going slow, so I passed him. He followed me all the way to the airport until we went to separate terminals.

Fast forward to a few months* ago. I was flying out at 7:05 to Florida via KCI for Thanksgiving (my parents had retired). Driving along, I noticed almost nobody on the road with me. A few minutes later some asshole behind me turns on his brights. I look in the mirror and think “what a piece of shit car!” Then I shat bricks. That was my fucking car, busted bumper and all, from like 1999-2002 (don’t remember what year the original flight was). So how did that car manage to stay alive since I sold it?OH SHIT, HOLD ON! I noticed the fucking Rasta license plate. It’s cool, Rasta stuff is pretty popular. Now, after reading several GITM posts, I was starting to think maybe something is off here. I looked out my window just in time to see him passing me. We drove to the airport. Seperate terminals.

I drive a white Jetta.