333

I'd like to share something. The mystery of which is beyond me. It is a personal story but one that is worth telling, even though in telling it, I run a risk.

It all began years ago when I lived in Louisiana. I slept well in those days. I had difficulty falling asleep, but once there, nothing stole my dreams. In a span of 5 years, I may have awoken once during the night. My sleep knew no thief that could take it.

That is why when I woke during one night and saw a room filled with darkness, I was astonished. What had brought me from my sleep? I turned to look at the clock, and I saw the numbers... 3:33.

I was amused. The numbers were the same, and 3:33, so naturally it stood out in my mind. The next night came like all others and again I entered sleep unencumbered. But again, I awoke.

On the wall was framed a light from the window. It shown against the darkness, and confused, I knew for the second night in a row I had risen before dawn. I was puzzled, as no sound seemed to have been made. No phone had rung, and my bed mate still lay sleeping. I never woke during the night. It made no sense. And in this salient moment, the clock stood still... at 3:33.

The red digital numbers stared back at me and shock reigned within. Years had passed without me waking, yet for the second night in a row I was pulled from sleep, at the same exact time, for no apparent reason. Not as amused as the previous night, rather, slightly alarmed, I somehow regained the sleep I had lost. But when morning came I communicated the happening to to brother and girlfriend.

Then came the next night. I entered sleep with trepidation. I entered sleep with a tinge of fear. But I knew I would not awaken again. I hoped. I slept.

Then I woke. The walls still were dark. The light from the widow clung its square shape on the wall, silently for me to see. Fear embroiled me. From never waking at night, to waking twice in a row, at the same time. To waking a third night. I waited. To fearful at the coincidence. To afraid to lay my eyes upon the clock. I counted in my mind. I passed a minute, then two. Then I looked.

3:33 pronounced itself on the clock. My eyes were trained upon the numers. My gut wrenched and tightened as I sat up, wondering. And sleep would not find me for hours after.

Then it ended. The next night I resumed my normal pattern of sleep through to morning, and for years it continued that way. Until...

I worked a job where I slept overnight at the job. My brother-in-law who I loved, had just died at age 36. And I awoke, at 3:33. Immediately I felt an unease. And immediately I spoke to my lost friend. I wondered if somehow he was trying to speak to me. But finally, I slept again, no closer to understanding the numbers or to any deeper meaning.

Once home, I told my wife about waking at that time and wondered if it had something to do with her brother. As night approached, off to work I went again.

It wasn't until well after 2 a.m. that I was able to retire and to the degree that I was exhausted, I knew I would not be yanked from sleep for any reason.

I was wrong.

Dead in sleep, a loud, rasping sound dislodged me from dreams. I looked over at a window of the work trailer. It had shot opened and slammed against the wall, the weather having directed its movement.

Naturally, my eyes immediately found the clock, and on cue, 3:33 met me. I curled up and spoke. I begged. "Speak to me." I asked that if my brother-inlaw had something to say, to just say it. But the only sounds I heard were of thunder and wind whipping at the trailer walls.

My work shift ended and I was determined to find something out. I had to know.

I arrived at home early in the morning as my wife readied herself for work. I asked, "When Pop died, where did we live?" My wife answered. "Raceland."

We'd lived there for a short stint when in college and my hypothosis was founded. I explained that me waking at 3:33 had happened then, and now it was occurring again after her brother's death. Just then my wife's face changed shape, and she gasped as she looked past me to a picture on the refrigerator.

The picture was of her brother's newborn son. In the photo her nephew was before a television, and on the television were the numbers 33, on channel 3.

That was about 8 years ago and I have had some occurrences since. This weekend I had another.

Visiting a friend in Atlanta, I told of my connection to the number. My friend listened. That night we went out for some live music and from across the bar I noticed something that caught mye eye. A man wore a shirt and on the fabric he wore a number... 333. My friend and I smiled with me shrugging my shoulders. I still didn't know what the numbers meant. But they spoke.

Then, Monday as my friend prepared for work, it happened again. "Wow, I got a call last night in the middle of the night. It went to voicemail but they left no message. That is weird. Who would call at 3:30?" my friend asked rhetorically.

My voice broke in, "3:30, or 3:33." I moved toward my friend as I asked the question and as we both peered at the phone and at the time that the call was placed... it was 3:33, on the dot. And I had been called again. This time by the clock on my friend's phone voiced to me.

But still, I don't know what it all means. I don't know where it should guide me or what the connection is.

I have never been one to be attracted by hokus pokus or new age mindlessness. My outlook is more scientific than anything else, but I know what has happened to me is not statistically feasible. I don't yet know what it all means and may never know, but I hope to.

And if this is my connection to some deeper meaning, I accept it. I desire it. I only hope I will someday summons the wisdom to understand it.

I need to.