The Stranger
Interesting premise for a Sci-Fi story, from a dream last night:
You live in a tiny flat in a giant high rise. It's basically a studio with a kitchen, and a single window overlooking a massive metropolitan sprawl. One wall is especially nasty, like a hasty remodel job had been done on the place, before you moved in. You throw darts at that wall, when you're bored.
You have two acquaintances that keep putting pressure on you either to not do certain things, or to do certain other things (one looks like Michael Clark Duncan, the other looks like Markie Post). You can't figure out why they care so bloody much about the choices you're making day in and day out. It's almost like they're secretly intentional. You're becoming more and more certain of it, in fact.
One day, whilst tossing darts, a piece of the nasty wall falls away, and a hole opens up. But, rather than bare studs and maybe some rat crap, instead you see a second wall, that had obviously been hastily covered over by the present one. You can see through the hole, that there is even a bulletin board hung on that wall. With things pinned on it. You tear away more of the wall, to see the whole bulletin board. Pinned to one corner is an old photograph from the late 80s. It's obviously you in the photo. In your late teens (maybe 19 or 20). You're shaking hands with William Shatner at some Con in California, and the photo is autographed by him. But, here's the thing: you've never met Shatner, and you've never been to that part of California.
Another day, you're walking through a strip mall parking lot. As you walk around the side of the strip mall, a utility phone near a loading dock entrance begins to ring. There's nobody around. Suddenly, you realize what's been going on for the last few months. You run over to the phone, snatch it up, and bark: "WHO IS THIS? WHO ARE YOU? I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! IT'S ME, ISN'T IT! ISN'T IT!..." At which point, there's a click, and the phone goes dead. You realize he was expecting someone else to pick up the phone. You glance around quickly, but you can't see anyone.
You know, now, that there's somehow an either future or alternate universe version of you, manipulating your choices in this universe using those acquaintances as confederates. For some strange reason, this future/alt version of you can't or won't contact you directly. So, he needs others to do the physical work. Hence, the acquaintances.
Once you realise this, you begin to rummage through your memory frantically, reviewing every single major choice in your life, every little minute inconvenience, or roadblock, or scuffle, or success, or award, searching for signs of the presence of the future/alt you, and his minions, and you begin to devise a plan to corner him into revealing himself, and confessing his intent.