Time slips

Below is part of an email I received from a reader about an alleged “time slip” experience she experienced.
 
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As for my experience, I had written recently to Dr. Pam Heath regarding a paper that she had published a few years ago on place memory (although not my area of specialization, I have always been somewhat of a physics geek.) It was she who introduced me to the term “time slip,” and led me to you.

I suppose I can dispense with the urge I feel to begin by saying “I know this is going to sound crazy, but…”
 
What happened was this: Up until the 4th grade, all of my teachers had been attentive, benevolent creatures, I excelled, and school was a joy to me. That year, however, instead of spending all day in “home-room,” we began to change classes for different subjects and I found myself in a math classroom with a teacher who was always angry, especially at me for some reason. She would call on me incessantly and find a reason to upbraid me. I became so afraid that I would feel physically ill every day on the way to her class.

A few weeks into the year, she reassigned our seats because we were all “bad.” I now found myself much further back in the room, and near a side wall. Along with all of the usual things found on elementary school walls, there was a painting there, just at eye level, that I had never noticed before. I would sit and stare at it, and it made me feel calm and safe. The teacher never called on me again, despite the fact that I was clearly paying no attention. I must have done my work and turned it in, although I have no memory of doing any work in there after the painting appeared. So far, sounds psychological, right?
 
Then it gets strange. Near the close of the year, an art teacher visited our home room. He talked about various artists, gave us some simple drawing supplies, and passed around a humanities book with some color plates of paintings. One reminded me of the painting hanging in the math room; I raised my hand and said so. To my surprise, other students who shared that class with me said there was no such thing. My homeroom teacher trusted me and asked that I go down the hall and see if the math teacher would mind very much if we borrowed it for the day’s art lesson. I happily went, but when I got there, it was gone. There was nothing on that part of the wall at all, and the teacher said there never had been. I was confused and embarrassed. It did not reappear.
 
Afterward, I did my best to describe the painting to my mother, but it wasn’t enough to go on to track down the artist/image. I wondered about it on and off, but could never make sense of it. Many years later, I came across a café selling postcards and foam-board posters on a sidewalk. While idly flipping through them, I spotted it. It was a Wyeth entitled Christina’s World; I was stunned. So, it did exist!
 
Okay, my brain did not create a painting out of nothing…but rather brought us together somehow? How? Was I transported, or was it? Why that image? What is the connection?
 
I still have no idea, but do think that Jung was correct about the existence of a collective unconsciousness, and that certain conditions can spark connections. Since then, prints and copies of Christina’s World have continued to unexpectedly pop up in my life, seemingly only during times of great stress. But it is such a famous image, I would have to concede that there is some chance of coincidence.

There you have it. Not my only brush with the paranormal, but one of the weirdest. If truth be told, I do not believe that there is a “para” normal, only a normal that most scientists have yet to fully engage, to their shame.

If you are not familiar with the group IONS, you might want to check them out.