Does Time Travel Exist? A Personal Curiosity That Never Quite Went Away

 

Does Time Travel Exist? A Personal Curiosity That Never Quite Went Away

I’ve always been drawn to the idea of time travel. Not in a loud, sci-fi blockbuster way, but in a quieter, late-night curiosity kind of way. The sort where you fall down a rabbit hole watching documentaries, listening to old radio shows, or reading theories that leave you staring at the ceiling afterwards, wondering what if?

Time travel has a strange hold on us. It sits right on the edge between science and imagination. We don’t just want to know if it’s possible — we want to know what it would mean. Could we change things? Fix mistakes? Warn ourselves? Or are we simply trying to make sense of time itself, because it feels like the one thing we never truly control?

One of the reasons this topic stayed with me for so long is because of Art Bell. Long before podcasts and social media feeds, Art Bell’s late-night radio shows created a space where the unusual could be spoken about calmly. No shouting, no mocking — just voices in the dark, telling extraordinary stories. On Coast to Coast AM, he openly invited people to call in with claims of time travel, future knowledge, or experiences that didn’t fit within ordinary explanations. He didn’t tell listeners what to believe — he simply let the conversation unfold.

There was one case in particular that always stuck with me as feeling more realistic than most, even if it was still impossible to verify. A man who went by the name John — often remembered as John Titor — claimed to be a time traveller from the future. What made his story linger wasn’t flashy predictions or dramatic warnings, but the way he spoke about technology, timelines, and uncertainty. He didn’t sound like someone trying to impress. He sounded like someone explaining something complicated, knowing full well that people might not believe him.

That doesn’t mean his story was true. But it was thoughtful. And when you’re listening late at night, in the quiet, stories like that have a way of staying with you.

And that’s important.

Time travel isn’t just about machines or portals. At its core, it’s about our relationship with the past and the future. Humans have always imagined ways of stepping outside the present moment. Ancient myths spoke of gods moving through time freely. Religious texts describe visions of the future. Even dreams can feel like they bend time, replaying memories or showing possibilities that don’t yet exist.

Modern science hasn’t completely dismissed time travel either — but it talks about it very differently. Physicists discuss time dilation, where time moves differently depending on speed and gravity. Astronauts actually experience tiny differences in time compared to people on Earth. That’s real, measured, and proven. It’s not someone jumping back a hundred years, but it does show that time isn’t as fixed as it feels.

Where things get complicated is when stories move from theory into certainty.

I’ve watched plenty of videos and documentaries where people claim to be time travelers, future messengers, or witnesses to timelines that haven’t happened yet. Some are fascinating. Some are unsettling. And some feel more like reflections of fear than fact. It’s easy to get swept up in them — especially when the world feels uncertain and the future feels heavy.

That doesn’t mean people who believe in time travel are foolish. Quite the opposite. It often means they’re imaginative, curious, and deeply aware of how fragile things feel. When the present is stressful, the mind looks for escape routes. Time travel becomes one of them.

What I’ve learned over the years is this: the question “does time travel exist?” often hides another question underneath it — can things change?

We want to believe they can.

Listening to voices like Art Bell’s reminds me that it’s okay to explore ideas without needing to declare them true or false straight away. Curiosity doesn’t require belief. You can enjoy the mystery, question the claims, and still walk away grounded in the present.

Personally, I don’t know if time travel exists in the way films and stories present it. I don’t know if anyone has ever truly stepped out of their timeline and returned. But I do know that humans will probably never stop asking the question — because time shapes everything we are.

Maybe the real fascination isn’t about traveling through time at all. Maybe it’s about understanding it. Or learning how to live better within it, instead of constantly wishing we were somewhere else.

And perhaps that’s why, late at night, stories about time travel still feel comforting. They remind us that the future isn’t written yet — even if we can’t visit it.

If nothing else, time travel stories invite us to pause, reflect, and think more deeply about where we are right now. And sometimes, that’s more powerful than any machine could ever be.