I am not a superstitious person by any stretch of the imagination, but this happened to me last year and I swear every word of it is true:
I was having a nightmare. In my dream, I was walking along a street in my city, when a passing-by stranger asked me a question. I didn't quite understand what he said, so I approached him. But soon as I was an arm's reach from him, he stuck me with a needle and injected me with something making me pass out. Still in my dream, I regained consciousness in a dungeon in hell, surrounded by supernatural demons and horrors. I was stretched out on a torture rack while they flayed my skin to prepare my soul for sacrifice to the devil. "There is no escape," the demons told me as they laughed, "There is no escape." I screamed and pulled on my chains to escape, but my futile efforts were only met with cackling laughter.
Ding-dong. I awoke to the sound of my doorbell ringing. Not in the dream. In reality. At 5:00 in the morning, still dark as night, in my apartment. Horrified, I thought this couldn't possibly be the case: I live alone, and I'm certainly not expecting somebody this late on a Saturday night / this early on a Sunday morning. But the doorbell rang again, ding-dong. I grabbed my flashlight, bolted out of bed, and went to the front door to investigate. No one was there. Not a soul on my porch. It was still dark outside, and the street was deserted. I looked through the large glass window of the front door, but every bone in my body was screaming at me to not open that door. So behind the door I stayed. I stood there for several minutes wondering what the hell just transpired, looking out onto my empty porch through the window. It was raining slightly, cold, and generally unpleasant out, certainly not the weather nor time for ding-dong ditching. Besides, there's no way they ran away that fast, right? Maybe my doorbell was malfunctioning? But it only rang those two times. Oh well, I thought, and I walked back up the stairs and into my apartment.
As soon as I closed my apartment door behind me, the door bell rang again. Ding-dong ding-dong ding-dong. Three times, in rapid succession, as if someone were desperately trying to get me to come downstairs. I raced back downstairs again in a panic, thinking, what the hell is going on? Within 3 seconds I was back at the front door of my building again, looking at a completely silent and empty porch. Oh fuck this, I thought, and went back upstairs, and switched off my doorbell ringer.
It was difficult to fall asleep again.