One year when I was in college (2003, I believe), I lived by myself in a small apartment just off of Glenstone in Springfield, Missouri. Glenstone is also knows as Business 65 and is a major street through town, crowded with businesses and restaurants.
I want to point out that even before I moved to Springfield, I was familiar with the town. My family has lived in the area my entire life and my father also lived in Springfield when he went to college.
All I know is that one day, Sonic moved. I ate there often, and for the first half of the year, it was on the west side of Glenstone, a few blocks from my apartment. Then one night, driving up Glenstone, I simply couldn't find it. I turned around and headed back toward home, thinking I might have missed it somehow, but I made it all the way back to my street without any luck.
I knew there was a Sonic there somewhere, by George, so I turned around again and drove back up Glenstone. Eventually, I did find it; it was just on the other side of the road from where it had always been. Oh well, I thought, maybe I'm just going crazy. Or who knows, maybe something peculiar really was going on, but who was I to question the mysteries of fast food? At any rate, Sonic seems to have made up its mind and continues to be on the east side of the road to this day.
Then a few years after Sonic relocated itself, I was flying home into the Springfield airport, and my dad had to come to town to pick me up. I generally fly at odd hours because it's cheaper and it happened to be very late at night. It's become tradition for us to stop somewhere for fast food after he picks me up at the airport after a long trip.
Not a lot was open at that hour, so we decided on the glorious 24-hour Sonic and made our way down Glenstone. I didn't give it a lot of thought, because by now I had gotten used to the idea of Sonic being on the east side of the street when dad suddenly verred the car across the lanes and missed the turn. Turning the car around in some parking lot, he sort of giggled and said, "Didn't Sonic used to be on the other side of the road?"
I just said, "Yeah, I think so." Maybe someone knows more than I do and can tell me that yes, there really was another Sonic on the west side of N. Glenstone and that, yes, they decided to tear it down and build another one on the east side a little farther north of where the old one was -- and yes, fast food restaurants can be built in a matter of days. I don't know.
If, however, it was something paranormal, like a dimension shift, it is comforting to me to know that both my dad and I shifted together, even though at the time we lived about 20 miles apart.
I've had a couple of other minor incidents happen along these lines that have given me pause. Two other places I've had things like this happen, once on a dirt road, once walking through fields, but in those cases I was with people, and also in a rural environment. I'd never considered a very public area moving around like that, and it had never happened while I was driving by myself.
Far more often for me has been object displacement, which I tend to think of as a more dimensional phenomenon than as poltergeist activity. I'll set my glasses down next to the pool (noting where I do because, of course, I won't be able to see to find them otherwise) and then they'll turn up on the other side of the pool.
I'll lose my eraser in the middle of a sketch, only to find it outside on the patio an hour later. I'll put my keys in my purse and, unable to find them later, dumping my purse, putting it back again, tearing apart the house, I find them, naturally, in my purse after all.
The list goes on. It strikes me as odd, however, that it always seems to be something important for me to find at the time, something I'm concentrating on. On occassion, I have taken to demanding my things back, in case it really is a poltergeist, and I have to admit, this seems to help. Maybe I should go stand outside of Sonic and scream at it for a while and see if it moves.