I am coming to suspect that the boundaries between the planes is becoming more porous. Was my stalker impelled to take the grey Montbell t-shirt by the breezes stirred up by Raven's wings or the echoes of Coyote's howls? Do I dare ignore the possibility?
One day, will I open up the drawer in which I keep my workout clothes, the one I've searched over and over again for the missing shirts, and find, balled and wrinkled in a back corner that I am certain I've checked fifty times before, that orange wool Ibex shirt or the long-lost Salsa jersey, the disappearance of which set into motion this whole madness?
A strong wind blows when two locations' air pressures differ. Think, then, of the strange currents of energy that must exist between two distinct realities, that of the physical plane that we (think we) know, and of another plane, more occult and wondrous and standing beyond our meager attempts to explain. What might those winds look like? As the boundary grows more permeable, mustn't the strength of the currents grow? From that perspective, I will view the unexpected return of my Ibex shirt as essentially the appearance of a wind sock between the dimensions. Here in this physical space I may see a crumpled ball of fabric, but with my eyes attuned to greater forces, I will see it inflated, as with portent, indicating the strongest of winds.