Ever spoken to someone who was just so out of touch with reality? You’re not alone, these people share their own bizarre encounters with delusional folks. Content has been edited for clarity purposes.
Her Privileged Ex-Boyfriend
“Two years ago, I was involved in a nonprofit for women in my last city. My ex-boyfriend (we were 27 at the time) was from a rich area of the state, and the mean income for this area was 31k. A teacher talked about how 500 plus kids in her school were homeless, and how seniors would pool their money together to get a hotel for days or weeks at a time.
I remember telling my ex-boyfriend about it, and how awful that’s gotta be to be 17 and living with 10 others in a hotel.
He said, ‘They’re stupid. If they had any brains, they’d buy a house so they could get equity; the hotel is just them throwing their money away and not getting anything from it.’
He was 100 percent stuck that these 17-year-olds, with no addresses, who are MINORS, can apply and qualify for a mortgage. I fussed at him and don’t regret it, because he was so out of touch with reality.
Eventually, he went on months later to say, ‘I talk down about other people and act like I’m better than everyone because I am better than everyone.’
I replied, ‘Stephen, you’re a prick.’
His parents were loaded, so he never had to really pay for anything until after college, and even then he didn’t have to pay for housing for the first three years of his career. And still, 95 percent of his (nice) furniture and everything was given to him. It’s very easy to brag about your 401k when you NEVER had to allocate money towards rent, loans, etc.”
Who To Listen To? Nurse Or A Tow Truck Driver
“So, my significant other has asthma and anxiety with a side order of panic attacks and depression. Took me months to convince him to seek medical and psychological help. The one time he tried to tell his family doctor about what he was feeling, the guy told him he’d grow out of it. What the heck?!
One weekend, I had to work back-to-back doubles to cover, so, he went to visit his parents. I got back to my place, surprised to find him home, and sitting in the dark, muttering to himself.
His dad, who is diabetic, told him his asthma and anxiety medications were a crutch and, as he obviously wasn’t crazy anymore, he shouldn’t take them because they were harmful.
I was livid. He also told him I had overreacted by convincing him to seek help. I mean, I’m just a nurse, so, obviously, I wouldn’t know better than his dad who is a tow truck driver.
I’d just gotten off a sixteen-hour shift, and only had about six more hours before I had to go back in, but, I drove over there and told him off. Then I suggested that maybe his insulin was just a crutch, since his glucose levels were no longer out of control, so, he should probably not take it anymore.
It was several years ago, but I still get ticked off about it. My partner is fine, still on his meds, trusts his healthcare team and me, and hasn’t had anxiety since he went on a tasting tour with his coworkers and reacted badly to the tannins.”
“When I was still a kid, my now estranged mom used to be one of the most logical and understanding people I knew. When I was just a teenager, it was just the two of us, and we were trying our best to get out of her brother’s house and have our own place.
We lived on the east coast. Then one day, out of the blue, my mom came home from work (she was a licensed therapist, mind you) and told me in dead seriousness that a man had come to her in her thoughts and told her we needed to move to the west coast, and we needed to leave on December 15th of that year.
I had never once judged or expressed doubt about her, but this was worth an eyebrow raise. She expected me to throw everything I owned in a storage locker, pack a suitcase, throw my emotional support dog in the hatchback of her SUV, and drive across the country with no money or planning in advance.
We went along with this and ended up homeless and nearly dying over the course of two years, with my dog actually dying in the turbulence of everything. She always insisted that everything going wrong was my fault and that her dream wouldn’t lie to her.
That was several years ago now, and she and I are no longer in contact. I’ve since moved North with my best friend and was forced to start my life completely over going into adulthood. She ended up right back in her brother’s house where we started.
I wonder what the man in her dreams tells her to do, nowadays.”
“I used to work for an answering service and we took after-hours emergency calls for a vacation condo rental company (plumbing issues, lockouts, etc). It is important to note the regular office was open every single day from nine am to nine pm, and the answering service only took calls overnight.
Some things I got calls about that people were enraged over:
No pool passes. Upset they would have to wait until nine am to speak to the office. The pool was closed from nine pm to nine am anyways.
This woman asked, ‘So what are you even there for?’ to which I replied, ‘Emergencies, such a flood.’
She responded, ‘Well the roof is on fire and there’s water pouring out of the ceiling.’
I asked her if she wanted me to dispatch the fire department, and let her know there would be a fine if they came out and there was no fire. She hung up.
I had another call about a bathtub that didn’t have a plug. The shower worked, but they ‘don’t like taking showers, we take baths.’ The fact it was after midnight and the office would be open the following morning aside. But you want to take a bath in the equivalent of a hotel room.
One time I got a call from a resident who cut their finger (while in their rental unit) while cutting vegetables. I advised them I could give them directions to urgent care. They were mad there wasn’t a nurse on staff. Is this a thing? I’ve never heard of it before.
Another time, a resident’s parking passes weren’t in their package they got in the mail. Parking passes were issued when you checked in, and I explained this. They weren’t even in town yet. Demanded to speak to my manager when I asked if I could take a message for the office staff in the morning.”
Sweet Ol’ Lady Or Lunatic?
“A sweet, late middle-aged woman moved in down the street from us and occasionally stopped by with stuff she baked or just to say hi.
I got home from work at about one am in the middle of winter to see her standing on the corner, barely dressed, and holding a pen and notepad. When I approached her, I saw she was writing down the license plate numbers of the cars parked on the street and yelling at the cars driving past.
I convinced her to come back to my apartment because she had to be freezing and she told me she was gathering evidence on the people who were tormenting her.
She told me every night, a group of people was projecting images of spiders and monsters through her window and she didn’t know why, but she had figured out who was behind it (random strangers she didn’t know).
I realized I was in way over my head and started recommending she call some family or someone that she knew she could trust.
Wrong move. She started throwing my words around and accusing me of weird things before leaving.
I saw her a few more times after and each time it was like talking to a different person. She’d always recognize me but sometimes it would be in a sweet motherly way, sometimes in a suspicious way, and sometimes in a screaming, balls-out disturbing kind of way.
Really hope she got the help she needed.”
“My brother can’t understand why I don’t own a house yet because apparently they only cost like 10,000 pounds and spending 2,100 pounds on a car must mean that it’s a brand new model.
Meanwhile, he’s 32 years old still living with my mum (parents are divorced). He pays 100 pounds a month to her in rent, which I recently found out my dad gives to him.
He ‘ran away’ one time at 28 cause my dad said he needed, either more hours or a better job. Then my mum asked for more rent in the same week. Apparently, it was way too much pressure, so he was given everything for him to not ‘run away’ again.
He doesn’t buy any food or household products. Has never cooked any more than putting a jacket potato in the oven. Rarely does that. The only housework he contributes to is washing pots and occasionally mowing the grass.
Rarely even buys his own clothes.
Also still works the same 16-hour part-time retail job he had from when he was 20.
One time, he was butt hurt when my dad wouldn’t give him 60k to start a tabletop game shop when he’s never even bothered to research how a business is run. He thinks it would be easy and he could get by only stocking games he likes and excluding women from it because ‘they distract from the campaign’, and ‘they mess about and take away from the seriousness of the campaign.’
But I’m the problem? I’m the failure child because he has a degree and I dropped out. This doesn’t even begin to cover it. I could write a book purely on the trauma of existing next to my brother.”
“He Was All In Crystals Now”
“I used to have a dealer who was my go-to guy for about five years straight. He was in his late 30s, had a wife, and a couple of teenage kids. I used to go around to his house and would usually end up having a chat with them all for at least half an hour over a smoke. We built up a pretty good relationship.
The dealer was a naturally funny guy, quite wiry built, not a big guy, but not someone I would want to get on the wrong side of. I remember dropping him a text about picking up one time and he asked me to meet him in the pub. When I got there he was pretty wasted but bought me a pint on sight. I was pretty worried about him so I finished the drink quickly and got him home. It turned out he’d been on a massive drinking and coke bender as he had a big falling out with his wife.
Anyway, this happened about three or four more times over the course of the next few months. Not every time, but got more and more common.
Then one extremely hot summer day, I messaged him again about supplying me.
He replied with a simple ‘Yes.’
I went over to his house, but he was not there. I quickly realized it was his wife who replied to the message. She told me his drinking and coke habit was out of hand and that he ran off a few hours ago with the dog. I was trying my best to be a friend, but it was hard because she was so distraught. Then it happened, he burst through the back door in nothing but his socks with bloody knees and a chipped tooth with blood around his lips. He just collapsed on the floor and wailed like an injured dog before getting into something akin to the fetal position. It was absolutely brutal to see. We called an ambulance.
A bit of time passed and I found out he was retiring, which I was pleased to hear. He gave me the number of a young guy with some excellent weed. I was grateful, I wished him well and was hopeful for him.
Now, some three years later, this was where things get really weird.
About six months ago, I had just seen some family in Manchester and had to drive home. I stopped at a service station in Staffordshire after a terrible start to the journey. Staffordshire is a long, long way from home.
I parked up, walked over to the building, and as I approached the doors, this figure caught my eye. I thought to myself, ‘This guy looks familiar.’
Then suddenly, he stared at me and said my name. I quickly realize who it was. It was him, my former dealer. He was happy to see me, but there was something off about him. He just looked glazed over and vacant, even his clothes were weird with baggy beige sweats that looked crunchy.
After the initial hello, he told me he was ‘all in for the crystals’ now.
I asked him, ‘What do you mean?’
He pulled out a couple of pretty obviously plastic, clear ‘crystals’.
I asked him, ‘Why?’
He said, ‘Because they help me to make music.’
He had this little mini keyboard thing with dials and beat pads on it and told me, ‘I write my rhymes on this.’
It was not plugged into anything so I was a bit thrown off by this, but then he started rapping for me. It was the most disjointed thing I’ve ever heard. He told me a record label had been sending him postcards about releasing an album soon.
After that revelation, he told me I should ‘sun gaze’ more so I could see it all. He told me he spent time staring into the sun every day, almost bragging like it was some sort of exercise regime or health kick. It was absolutely soul-crushing to see him like this. He had a happy demeanor, but his life had gone down the drain.
We must have been talking for nearly ten minutes when a couple of police officers came over to talk to him. One of them asked me a couple of questions about how I knew him. They eventually told me he had been spotted here for about the last two weeks and they didn’t know where he keeps getting off to when they moved him on.
I told them a lot of what I knew about him and that he needed to go to the hospital. They agreed but said they had already pursued that several times, but he just kept coming back. They were actually very caring officers and observed that he was very peaceful, but that they were worried about him. In the end, I had to say my goodbye to him with tears in my eyes as I headed to the toilets.
When I came back out, he was gone, as were the officers.
I quickly spoke to his ex-wife and she doesn’t want anything with him. She was always the firmer one of the two, but she absolutely loved him at some point. I genuinely dread to think about what he has done to make her completely turn her back on him. I think about him a lot. I feel a sense of guilt and of powerlessness. That last time I saw him was so bleak that I find it hard to even have hope for him. He doesn’t stand a chance.”
A Rich Boss, But Broke Employees
“My boss at the time complained incessantly about me and my coworkers not going to lunch with her very often. She liked to go to places that were easily a 20 to 30 dollar lunch and we really just couldn’t afford it. My paychecks for two weeks would barely reach 600 dollars, and that was only if I cut my breaks short and I stayed late every day to try and hit 80 hours. Her paychecks (which she left openly on her desk) were salaried at 3k per two weeks.
Anyway, she would question what we did with our money that we couldn’t afford to go to lunch with her. I thought, ‘You don’t pay us enough to go to lunch with you.’
Another time, we took in several new contracts which were great but put a huge workload on us. She promised us a raise if we got the work but never delivered it. No one wanted to approach her so I decided to be the ballsy one and ask about the raise. She seemed open to the idea and scheduled a formal meeting to talk about it with me the next day. The next day she offered me a 25 cent raise and acted like it was the next coming of Jesus.”
“When I was 18 years old, a man approached me when I was alone at the bus stop on my way to work, and accused me and my sister of plotting to kidnap and torture him.
I had never met this man before in my entire life. Somehow he knew where I lived, and what cars were usually parked outside. He also somehow was able to identify the woman I lived with as my sister. I don’t know how on Earth he managed to get any of this information.
I lived in a cul-de-sac, so it’s very unlikely he ever just ‘strolled by’ during the day. Neither my sister nor I had EVER met this man before, or ever seen him on our street. He didn’t live in the area. And there’s no way he could tell by sight that we were sisters. There’s an age gap of 13 years and we look nothing alike because we’re technically half-sisters.
I didn’t feel threatened by the guy or anything (I actually felt sorry for him, and tried my best to assure him we weren’t gonna hurt him) but this was disturbing. It means he either cased out our house, or he knew someone who was giving him information about us, despite knowing that he was insane. It was bonkers.
Luckily, he didn’t follow me on the bus. On the way to work, I phoned my sister to warn her about this man, then I called the cops to file a report.
After that, I saw him in town a lot. If I was in a car, I quickly learned to duck if I saw him in the distance because every time, without fail, he would spot me in the passenger seat, and he would stop and stare at me. I was terrified that he would one day find out where I lived, even after moving house, because of the license plate on my boyfriend’s car.”
“There was a guy from college who lived in a shared house with us. He was, mildly putting it, an unbelievably massive jagoff.
The first time his rent came up, he naturally didn’t have it. My girlfriend at the time and I got into it over the fact that I was probably going to have to pay his rent or have serious issues with the landlord, which could result in eviction. I budgeted for my rent and emergencies. I didn’t budget for his rent, plus my own rent, and emergencies.
I tried to explain to her rich spoiled self that it was critical this guy paid his rent so we all could maintain a place to live. She countered with the concept that it was, in fact, ‘education’ that was the most important thing since we were all at school together to learn.
This girl lived in a house that her parents paid for with one roommate in a huge house. She had a maid service. She had a car. Every time she was ten or more miles away from home and needed a place to sit down, she’d rent a room at a hotel on her parent’s credit card. Middle of the semester, while classes were still going, she just took a random vacation to a hotel in Florida and did numerous international trips during the actual vacations. Then she has the gall to explain to me that this bum’s ‘education’ was far more important than him paying his rent.”
No Common Sense
“My sister would frequently design out scenarios in her head and how’d they play out and, shocker, none of them played out the way she wanted to.
One time, she wanted to celebrate my grandmother’s birthday by having a family get-together, right in the middle of 2020.
My grandmother was understandably like. ‘No, have you looked outside recently?’
Or more recently, our mom had a cancer scare (she’s fine now, thankfully), and my sister’s plan to take care of things? Have her move to the same town my sister lives in. Which is a gentrified town where the rent is insane and our mom doesn’t exactly have a lot of money to go around.
I asked, ‘How’s she supposed to live there?’
She said, ‘Oh, I dunno, just get a job!’
Never mind the fact that our mom is getting up there in age and she does work, but trying to hoist more work onto her is going to break her.
She lives in some idealistic reality where everything goes as planned. It never ever does.”
A Town Full Of “Yuppies”
“I grew up in a farm-town-turned-suburb and when I was in high school, someone stole our car out of the driveway overnight.
When mom called the non-emergency number to report it, apparently the person on the other end went, ‘Oh! An actual crime!’
Turns out since they built the new subdivisions, all the yuppies (or in other words, rich and entitled folks) had been flooding the lines with complaints like ‘There’s a suspicious man passing my house at six in the morning.’
It would end up the person was either a jogger, dog walker, or just a guy going to work. There was another complaint, ‘It’s too loud!’ Only to find out it was someone using a snowplow. And of course the requisite complaints about teenagers existing where they could be seen.
Hilariously, they found the car, where a couple of rich and entitled kids had ditched it after a joyride. Knew who they were because the idiot left a student id on the floor.”