Saturday, November 10, 2007

the mind-reader


A few months ago, I went to see a psychic. My first time. My friend Anna talked me into it. She’s been going for years and thought I would really enjoy the experience. Surprisingly, I did.

Now. I’ve never been a believer in psychics. I’ve always put soothsayers right up there with evangelists and rodeo clowns- funny, but nonsensical. But I do believe there are other things at work than what we see around us every day. I’ve seen and experienced too many strange things not to believe.

I was surprised at what the psychic told me. I walked into her house, we sat down and she released a torrent of information about me. The strange thing was how she addressed things that were on my mind not just in general, but in the week preceding my visit.

I thought she would ask me leading questions to try to gauge my mood or to learn more about me. Instead, she talked, and I listened. The only questions she asked were when she seemed to be getting mixed signals. E.g., “The man you lived with is ill? Or injured?” He was injured- and we hadn’t discussed my living with anyone up until that moment.

She gave me a lot more information, but I won’t outline it here. I know that most of you are probably rolling your eyes, you non-believers, and that’s fine. I won’t give you a blow-by-blow of our discussion. But it was spot-on, as far as I know. When it comes to stuff that hasn’t happened yet, I don’t know if she was right or wrong. Time will tell.

Since I was a little girl, my friends and family have told me I have an uncanny knack for predicting the future. While it’s true that I try to use a skosh of real-life experience to decide what’s going to happen next, I don’t feel like I can pass myself off as a clairvoyant.

I wish that I could read minds. I wish I knew what you were thinking. To know what you think about me. Why you say the things you do. Why you leave so much more unsaid.

It would ease my mind, if only I knew. But then, maybe we’re not supposed to know what’s going to happen. Maybe we’re not supposed to know why.

Maybe, if I could read your mind, I wouldn’t like what I found there.

Or maybe I already know. And that’s what worries me most.