It happened in December 1988. I’d been taking office-temp jobs, to supplement acting work, and had been driving toward a new assignment. The highway I was driving is a major thoroughfare, with two lanes in either direction, separated by a concrete island, and a speed limit of 45 or 50 MPH. The road connects San Rafael (north of the SF bay) to Richmond (east of the bay), via the bridge linking the two. There are no residences on the highway and, with few (and far-between) businesses, no foot traffic and no on-street parking.

Previously, when I had driven the highway, it had been a mere means to an end; I had simply passed through from one point to another, giving little attention to landmarks along the route, and paying no heed at all to street addresses. Consequently, on this occasion, I passed the entrance to the office parking lot (the only one in sight). Having overshot my mark, I had no choice but to continue driving in search of a break in the center divider, where I could make a U-turn. I finally came upon a left-turn indentation in the concrete divider and veered in, in preparation for turning.

Though still aware of the “Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh” of cars speeding by in both directions, my mind began to wander while I waited for the sound’s lull, as an indication that I could safely make my U-turn and proceed to my destination.

Here is where the sequence of events becomes uncertain: I may first have heard the squealing of brakes; but whether the squeal comes before or after, I am certain of the following: as I sat, still spacing out, waiting for the traffic’s lull, a man’s voice said, “GO!!!!” with such authority that, without question, without any thought, whatsoever, I immediately stepped on the gas, quickly pulled out into oncoming traffic, pulled over to the side of the road and stopped, wondering, “What was that all about?” By that point, I had heard the squeal of brakes and, burning with curiosity, I turned to look back toward where I had just been. In the left-hand turn indentation (where 30 seconds earlier, I had been waiting), was a car, facing in the opposite direction, apparently having skidded (from the other side) across and through the gap in the center island.

***

Although a few of my mystical experiences can be attributed to some other phenomenon, this is one of those events that I simply cannot explain away. In order to be explained away, it would have to have been caused, consciously or unconsciously, by another person or by me.

It could not have been someone else (at least, not on this plane of existence) whose intervention saved me and others on that day. There was no one nearby—neither in the car, nor on the street—to have barked that single syllable. Also, I am not the sort of person who, without question, would immediately respond to an order barked (no matter how forcefully) by a complete stranger.

Neither could I have created it. For one thing: I don’t have men’s voices inside my head. But, in the interest of complete exploration, I shall disregard that fact. Even assuming that I had heard the squeal of brakes prior to the “GO,” I was not, on any conscious level, aware of the events that were about to transpire; I was, in fact, only paying peripheral attention. But I shall take it one step further: even if, on some subconscious level, I had been aware, I would NOT have assumed that the way to escape danger, from a car traveling in the opposite direction, was to pull out into that car’s lane; instead, I would have assumed that my position—on the other side of the road—was the safest place for me to be.

Had the voice not come, or had I not heeded it, would I have been killed? Would the occupants of the other car? I don’t know. I do think it’s safe to assume that there would have been serious injuries, injuries avoided because of the intervention of a disembodied voice, speaking with such authority that I had no choice but to respond.

***

I’ve often wondered about the other drivers and their passengers from that day, those who bore witness to a ’69 Dodge Dart, pulling out into oncoming traffic, narrowly missing an impending impact from another, out-of-control vehicle: what did those witnesses think? Assuming they still recall the event—most likely less significant to them than it is to me—how, today, do they explain it, in their own mind?

Here’s how I’ve come to think of it: my latest theory (as always, subject to revision) is along the lines of the parallel universes suggested by quantum physics’ string or membrane theory. As a non-scientist, I translate what I’ve learned into images which work for me: in this case, I envision parallel universes as being like a set of Russian nesting dolls. We reside in the innermost “doll,” where we can perceive all that is available to our 5 senses in our “doll” only. Beings who reside in the outer “doll” closest to us can perceive not only their “doll,” but also ours. The same holds true for all subsequent outer “dolls,” the residents of each being able to perceive not only their own “doll,” but all inner “dolls.” And with their advantage of objectivity, outer “doll” residents can foretell; they know of such things as trajectories and can instantaneously formulate likelihoods and determine a necessary action for the benefit of all concerned. And on that December day in ’88, one of those outer “doll” residents chose to break through to my “doll” and save not only me, but others from the devastation of a horrendous accident.