So, I'm standing outside of my office this afternoon, smoking a cigarette. There's a PNC Bank in our building, and the entrance is right next to the area where I smoke.

All of a sudden, out of the bank comes Bob, the host of Plastic Forks. And I was going to say hey...besides, I need to talk to him anyway about getting some of my stuff back that I left at the gathering.

But damnit! I couldn't remember his name at the time. And he didn't see me.

Oh well...fortunately, I'm only out a few rolls of film and a poncho.

You'll get it back. Even if it takes until October.

Also, you'll probably bump into him again ...

I ran into him a week after Plastic Forks.

At 30th Street Station.

Bear in mind that I NEVER go to 30th Street Station.

Bob does not live NEAR 30th Street Station.

This stuff just kinda happens to us sometimes. You get used to it after a while.

The "worst" one of these was this time I was stranded by a dead battery at the Acme in Ambler ... as I was banging my head against the steering wheel and trying to remember if I had my road service card with me, I had the stray thought ... "I wish Bob were here to rescue me."

Looked up ... he was there, and did, in fact, rescue me. (and no, he neither lived nor worked in Ambler, nor was it "on his way home."

Everyone dismisses psychic events as coincidence...well, everyone except me.

And me ...
Synchronicity? Psychic connection?

Probably both.

(Bob is the president of the Delaware Valley Pagan Network, BTW.)

Unless he's a stalker!

Cool! Bob should consider coming to Heartland Pagan Festival some time...we could even arrange an organizational member visit exchange if they are involved in a festival somewhere.