A paranormal experience

(By a Bally member)
It was a great summer afternoon. I rode my bike to visit to Bally Total Fitness to work out with my temporary two week membership, and to make a stop at the news-stand, to pick up my monthly Comics.
I walked into the facility, and on the way through the corridor of the Twelve Acres Club, I suddenly felt light-headed just like when one stands up too fast. Everything went white, I stopped in the middle of the hallway, and suddenly I realized a gym rep was standing in front of me trying to get my attention. It did not feel as if I stood there dazed for more than a few seconds, but it must have been longer, as I was started to realize that the trainer was standing in front of me trying to get my attention. Just like some horrible movie cliché, I shook my head, and excused my sudden lapse as feeling faint from the change of extreme temperature between the blistering summer heat, and the cold, stone, air conditioned hallway. I felt just as if I always did after "standing up too fast" except this time there was a gnawing feeling in my stomach. A feeling of nervousness and anxiety. It eventually passed, and I was quick to excuse it. I made my way to the workout area, and after typical exercises, I asked someone at the desk if my they had received a contract that day. The clerk hesitated, and stammered an answer someplace between "I don't know" and "The manager isn't here right now." She then corrected herself by reminding me that the contracts are normally sent to Norwalk to be processed.
Many months later, the following February, I took my grandmother to the gym. She picked a paper on the way in, and handed it to the gym manager. As she did, something prompted me to snatch it from his hands. I shuffled through it, and I found a contract signed in red ink, with a note on the top saying it was an agreement for three years or 36 months. It was MY handwriting. My very own. As soon as I looked at the red letters, I felt that strange dizziness that I had the previous summer, but this time, I saw something in that white haze.
I saw through my own eyes, that I was dressed in winter clothes, and holding the very same contract in my outstretched hand. What's more is that I was in standing in the exact same place I was the previous summer: The Bally Fitness building, in the central hallway, facing the same direction. I was brought to when I realized that my grandmother was trying to get my attention. The gym manager had swiped all the papers out of my hands, and whisked away to the back room. I yelled and begged him to bring it back. However, he lost his temper, and in a gruff but insincere tone, assured me I could look at the contract when he was done with it. I yelled for it again, and was simultaneously met with his threat of an "attitude adjustment" (synonymous with a physical beating) and my grandmother wanting to know what was so important.
I explained to her that the manager was holding a contract that I had signed. She asked what it said, but I told her I did not know. She asked when I signed it, but I told her I could not remember. She asked why I set it on the desk instead of just giving it to him, but I could offer no explanation. She asked how I knew it was mine, and all I could say was "I know it is." I told her about my signature on the bottom, but she assured me that it simply "looked" like mine. I was nearly hysterical trying to get my grandmother to believe me, but she merely chuckled with polite defiance, and insisted I was imagining things.
A while later, after the gym manager had cooled down, I asked him what those papers were that he took. He rattled off the usual assortment of bills and fliers, but indicated nothing else.
I asked him about the contract with the red handwriting, and he told me that it was none of my business. I asked why, and his tone changed from indifference to annoyance, and gruffly spoke "Because I said so." I ceased my pursuit of the topic.
However, after we left, I started my search for my own personal copy of the contract. I looked through the garbage, both indoors and out, and I searched my grandmother's purse for it. I asked a club rep about it, but she seemed genuinely oblivious. Over the course of the next month, I would eventually search the entire house, mostly when my parents were out. I didn't turn up a thing. I never forgot about the strange contract. Later that summer, I asked the gym manager about it again, and he had either forgotten or feigned ignorance.
I really don't know what it all means, but I'm as sure of these events as I am the keys I type this on. I can't be convinced of anything less. I often have Deja-Vu. Very strong episodes of Deja-Vu. In fact, so strong, I have actually been able to predict as much as complete sentences from people in the middle of a conversation... and then the feeling vanishes, leaving friends and passers-by wide-eyed. However, this "Red Contract" was one of the most profound and powerful experiences I have ever had. The only thing that is worse than not knowing what was in the letter, is not knowing if I'm right or was just "confused." I also am not sure why this collection agency keeps calling me.