Let's Dig Up Old Threads!

Schrodinger's Zebra

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Walking alone through the afternoon traffic...
#34

Rerenny

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#35
Do we still have the story about Muppets, possibly puppets, coming to life?

And is there one about cows? Standing on their hind legs, possibly dancing?

Really helpful comment, I realise that, but I have memory of but no proof these stories ever existed.
 

Yithian

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#36

EnolaGaia

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#37
Do we still have the story about Muppets, possibly puppets, coming to life? ...
In the same ("Dancing Cows") thread Yith cited there's mention of a (childhood?) fear the TV would spontaneously turn on and present puppet / muppet shows. There are other references to puppets / muppets in that thread, which may or may not allude to separate stories / tales.
 

MissViolet

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#38
Yep, I believe there's a reference to "Muppet dream", an old internet story from the ObiWan paranormal pages. In retrospect it feels a bit creepypasta.

I confess to a hint of pride that my former incarnation's thread is still haunting people.
 

Rerenny

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#39
This must be the Muppet story. As MissViolet says, it's an old story that made the rounds back in the day.

Not terribly old, but I love this thread: Panic: A genuine example in the old sense of the word
That feeling one can get in the countryside when the vastness, the ancientness, of everything suddenly focusses on you. everything is in sharp relief for one moment of clarity, before slipping away again
 

Frideswide

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#41
That feeling one can get in the countryside when the vastness, the ancientness, of everything suddenly focusses on you. everything is in sharp relief for one moment of clarity, before slipping away again
I feel this is what Watkins experienced with his old straight track theory...
 

Rerenny

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#42
I feel this is what Watkins experienced with his old straight track theory...
I've had it on digs, when I get overwhelmed by the presence of the past. It's why I'm not a professional archaeologist; I spend too much time holding stones and envisioning ancient landscapes, and not much time pushing wheelbarrows
 

Recycled1

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#43
I feel something similar when being driven through country side at dusk, when the light is failing.
Civilization falls away and I'm taken back to mysterious. primaeval times.
To be fair,I live on my own , and don't drive myself, so this is a fairly rare happening, but I love it when it does.
 

Shady

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#46
It is like drifting off into another time and can be very relaxing, block all other noises out, find yourself drifting off to sleep
 

IamSundog

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#48
One of my old favorites is by a long lost poster named FineHair with wrote of gnomes trying to pull her into a wardrobe. It’s very unbelievable, but IMHO does not sound like fiction writing but rather like someone trying to grapple with a completely incomprehensible and terrifying experience. It has haunted me ever since I first read it.
 
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#49
I feel something similar when being driven through country side at dusk, when the light is failing...
Not bleak -faintly exciting /creepy.
I'm with you on this.

As a kid I remember my dad asking me what my favourite thing was - and being driven at night was top of the list. We had relatives living in all sorts of rural nooks and crannies, and after our regular visits I absolutely revelled in the night-time drive back home through the country dark ('and there's no dark like a winter night in the country', as Jack observes in Conor McPherson's The Weir).

My overwhelming memory is one of mystery, but also a kind of promise of great things - I never felt any sense of threat, nor even of spookiness I think. Just a kind of wonder.
 

CarlosTheDJ

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#50
I'm with you on this.

As a kid I remember my dad asking me what my favourite thing was - and being driven at night was top of the list. We had relatives living in all sorts of rural nooks and crannies, and after our regular visits I absolutely revelled in the night-time drive back home through the country dark ('and there's no dark like a winter night in the country', as Jack observes in Conor McPherson's The Weir).

My overwhelming memory is one of mystery, but also a kind of promise of great things - I never felt any sense of threat, nor even of spookiness I think. Just a kind of wonder.
I used to love being driven in the car at night, my Dad would have something cool on the stereo (probably Jean-Michel Jarre....it was the 80s) and I would rest my head on the back of the seat and look at the stars through the top of the rear window. Even better when he got a moonroof!
 

Yithian

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#51
I'm with you on this.

As a kid I remember my dad asking me what my favourite thing was - and being driven at night was top of the list. We had relatives living in all sorts of rural nooks and crannies, and after our regular visits I absolutely revelled in the night-time drive back home through the country dark ('and there's no dark like a winter night in the country', as Jack observes in Conor McPherson's The Weir).

My overwhelming memory is one of mystery, but also a kind of promise of great things - I never felt any sense of threat, nor even of spookiness I think. Just a kind of wonder.
As a child I'd often be taken on weekend visits to see both sets of grandparents (distaff side and datstaff side). At that age it seemed like such a long journey, from Kent to Essex, and the drive home was certainly part of the thrill.

My father, I remember, drove a Datsun Cherry hatchback, and in the days of yore, before safety was king, my brother and I would plead with him to put the back seats down so that we might lie on our backs, looking up out of the rear window. He'd usually acquiesce. My little brother would inevitably fall asleep as Mum and Dad's chatter trailed off, but I'd just gaze on upwards and bask in the mauve and amber haze as the shadows of the street-lamps passed rhythmically over my body.

And the route itself was not without entertainments. There was the Coryton Refinery, near Tilbury, brooding beside the estuary with its moody iodine skies, flames flickering from its distant chimneys.

And the Dartford Tunnel that would herald its arrival with the abrupt delivery of a draught of cold night's air, instantly sobering as the window was wound down to toss a handful of coins into the gatekeeper's automatic maw: like some unmanned ghost train on an oddly industrial pleasure pier.

The final enchantment was that of the town, laid out and twinkling beneath us as we rounded the long shoulder of the hill that formed our final straight. It was reassuring. Such brilliance and range bore an air of self-evident permanence, and permanence is the patron spirit of home beloved of all travellers, be they old or ever so small.

Lights at night, lights within seen from without, and lights at sea—I've never lost the fascination for any of them.

They strike a chord somewhere within me.
 

Shady

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#52
And the sadness of the fact that the journey was almost over. I love the late evening in summer, when it has started to cool and night is near, to just sit outside with a drink and chat to friends, or inside and listening to people talking quietly outside, so relaxing
 

JamesWhitehead

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#53
I used to love being driven in the car at night,
As a child, I had a fascination with illuminated pubs and their signs, as viewed in passing. They seemed to hold a sense of forbidden promise. Of course, the signs themselves were often redolent of a jolly-old-England that never was. Places where you called for the Ostler or the Boots and could enjoy a foaming tankard of Stingo with one hand, whilst clutching a wench in the other and await Falstaff's arrival . . .

Needless to say, when I grew up a bit, entry to real inns and taverns was a terrible let-down in every way! :pcheers:
 
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Mythopoeika

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#54
I used to love being driven in the car at night, my Dad would have something cool on the stereo (probably Jean-Michel Jarre....it was the 80s) and I would rest my head on the back of the seat and look at the stars through the top of the rear window. Even better when he got a moonroof!
I used to do that too! I kept looking for UFOs.
 

Shady

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#56
My husband and i were driving back to Anderby Creek, pitch dark road middle of nowhere, the lane where you go past the Bank Farm country club, when suddenly the lights went out on the car and the engine stopped, first thoughts? aliens, i was like, shit, hubby got out the car, looked under bonnet, it was the bloody starter solenoid, disappointed and relieved at the same time
 

catseye

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#58
We didn't have a car when I was young, so any late night journeys were udertaken by bus or train, but I loved that feeling of a little community travelling together through the night. I only ever felt it when heading back towards home, though. On an outward bound journey the feeling was different somehow, so I'm guessing it had something to do with anticipating a cosy arrival at home after dark travels.
 
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