Doppelgängers and High Weirdness

A couple of things that have bothered me came to the forefront today for whatever random reason. Many years ago, I worked in a profession essentially requiring my clients and I to become very familiar with each other. One day, a client came in and he was furious. (Following is just an approximation of our convo.)

"What the FUCK man! You asshole!".

"Yes, I am that. What's tripped your trigger this time?".

"I saw you earlier today walking down the street. I said 'Hi'. You ignored me. I ran over and caught up to you and tried to talk with you. You stopped, turned to me, and said 'If you don't fuck off right now, I'll gut you right here.'".

I told him there was no fucking way that was me, he must've been baked again. I was in my office all fucking day with other clients. He got even madder.
"It was YOU man! The coat, clothes, stupid Sting face, everything!".
Eventually calmed him down, saying it must have been some freak thing, some guy who looked like me or something.

I never said Doppelgänger, even though it occurred to me afterwards, making the skin and hair stand up on my neck.


Come on! What else could it have been? I had already been seeing the dude individually and in groups for almost 8 months. It was daylight. He'd already seen my entire wardrobe. My face is pretty distinct, very "Sting-like". So is my body type.

What the fuck was a Doppelgänger of me doing? I really don't get it because nothing bad happened afterward. Unless you count meeting my now ex-wife.

That could be it.


The other thing concerns MIB. I will NOT go into the backstory. I mean, it had seemed to be a long fucking time since anything happened with which they would be concerned. This was an even longer time ago, when I was basically still a shitheaded kid, like around 20-something. I was working PT in a tiny old school gas station. There were several customers at the counter and waiting at the counter. This weird pale assed fucking dude in a black suit, skinny fucking tie, some black hat I can't name because I'm not up on chapeaus, and completely blacked out, sorta weird looking sunglasses is standing with his back against the far wall between the beer coolers. His head is leaning slightly forward.

After I served everyone else, I asked

"Can I help you?".

The fucker just stood there and said (NOT using my real name)

"Mr. Doe... Mr. John Doe..".

That's all I remember. Don't remember anything else about him leaving or anything. I don't remember the rest of the night, but I must have done everything I was supposed to do because no one said shit to me about fucking up.


Believe what you want. This shit bothers me sometimes.

Anyone else who will share similar experiences, I'd appreciate you.