A synchronicity is the coincidental occurrence of events, particularly with a metaphysical overtone.
For example, I was fixing a flat tire one day, grumbling about my ex-wife. Suddenly, a blob of gunk landed on my head. The bird with an upset tummy continued to fly in the general direction of my ex-wife's home in Texas.
Now that's what I call synchronicity. It was a reminder from another dimension not to mess with women.
Web site oddweek.com recently had a list of amazing coincidences. However, they're really synchronicities.
James Dean's car -- In 1955, the actor died in an automobile accident, driving a Porsche sports car.
1) The car was towed to a garage where the engine slipped out onto a mechanic, shattering both legs.
2) The engine was installed in a racecar. The driver was killed in a race shortly thereafter.
3) The driveshaft was installed in another racecar, and the driver was killed in the same race.
4) The Porsche was later repaired and restored. The garage it was in was destroyed by fire.
5) Later, while on display in Sacramento, the car fell off it's mount and broke someone's hip.
6) The trailer the car was mounted on slipped from its tow bar and crashed through the front of a shop.
7) Finally, while sitting on steel supports, the car mysteriously broke into 11 pieces in 1959.
Twin boys -- Two identical boys born in Ohio were separated at birth and adopted by different families.
Unknown to each other, they were each named James. Both were trained in law-enforcement, each married a woman named Linda, one named his son James Alan and the other named his son James Allen, both divorced and married a woman named Betty, and both had a dog named Toy. At age 40, they finally met for the first time.
A falling baby -- In the 1930s, a man named Joseph Figlock was walking down a street in Detroit when a baby fell from a high window, falling onto the unsuspecting Figlock who broke its fall. Neither were hurt.
A year later, Joseph Figlock was walking down the same street when the same baby fell from the same window, falling onto the unsuspecting Figlock, once again, who broke its fall. Neither were hurt.
Two brothers and a taxi -- In 1975, a man riding a Moped in Bermuda was struck and killed by a taxi.
One year later, the man's brother, riding the same Moped, was struck by the same taxi, driven by the same taxi driver, carrying the same passenger that was the passenger in the first incident.
The cabin boy -- Edgar Allen Poe wrote The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, a story about four survivors of a shipwreck, adrift on a lifeboat for days. Three of them killed and ate the cabin boy named Richard Parker.
In 1884, years later, the yawl "Magnonette" went down and there were only four survivors. On open waters for many days, the three senior members of the crew killed and ate the cabin boy, whose name was Richard Parker.
The king's double -- King Umberto of Italy went to a small cafe in Monza, Italy, and noticed how much he resembled the cafe owner. Ironically, each was born on March 14, 1844, in the same town. They each married a woman named Margherita and Umberto was crowned King of Italy the same day the owner opened his cafe.
On July 29, 1900, the cafe owner was shot and killed. While expressing his regret of this incident to a throng of people, on the very same day, King Umberto was assassinated by an anarchist in the crowd.
The bullet of destiny -- In 1883, Henry Ziegland broke up with his girlfriend, who subsequently committed suicide. The girlfriend's enraged brother shot Ziegland, then turned the gun on himself and took his own life.
However, the bullet only grazed Ziegland alongside his head and lodged in a nearby tree.
Years later, Ziegland decided to cut down the tree where the bullet had lodged. The tree was quite large so Ziegland blew it up with some dynamite. The explosion propelled the bullet into Ziegland's head, killing him.
You can't make this sort of thing up. Well, actually you can but the amount of synchronicity in store for you if you did would be extremely heavy. Much heavier than a blob of bird gunk falling from the sky; more like a piano.
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Bret Burquest is an award-winning columnist and author of four novels. He can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.