Coincidences

What are coincidences?

Seriously?

Are they simply juxtapositions of two or more things or events that show a commonality? If event A never occurred, would event B be noticed? Does A cause B? B cause A? Is there some unseen string tying the two together, only to be observed by a single person?

If I dream of a black Harley Street Glide with a four leaf clover painted on its tank, and then see that same bike on the commute home from work, that would seem odd, yes? Perhaps viewing the bike would shape the memory of the dream so as to engineer a false commonality. Maybe it was really a Triumph Bonneville with a fig leaf on it's tank riding around in my dream. Memories, especially of dreams, are fluid and fleeting, many times coming into false focus based on similar physical stimuli.

Any more, I will be damned if I know how some of these unseen things in the universe work.

This morning I wrote a little piece about Hearing a Call. The Call is unique and can mean different things to different people. Some calls are internal; some exhibit external presentations. Mine is a private call at the moment. No, I am not giving up motorcycling. No, I am not "switching teams." An, no, I am not entering the priesthood. When the time is right; timing is everything... or nothing at all.

At any rate, this morning I wrote what I wrote. This evening after leaving work, on my way to run a lengthy errand, an advertising truck caught me eye. If you are not familiar with these vehicles of questionable quantitative value, they are typically flat-bed trucks with large signs mounted to the bed. Some of them have signs that change. Others' signs are static.

This particular one was static. It was in oncoming traffic, waiting to turn left, across my path of travel. Needless to say, vehicles in this position throw imaginary red flags while I am riding. As I pass, the sign was obvious. The ware or service being advertised was unimportant. The huge words in yellow on blue, once read, would have caused my chin to drop if not for my helmet's strap.

I swear... This is what it read.

"Something is calling, Answer It!"

This stuff is just too odd for fiction.

Picture, "End of Confusion" by Wim Grooten.