How I became a psychic

I do not believe in astrology.  However, I am a Gemini, the sign of the twins, and I’m only speaking for one twin.  The other twin is a believer. I also admit I may be prone to exaggeration, but I promise you the following story is true.

imagesCA7OZAHZIn January, I attended my good friend Lisa Schmagenbuch’s monthly party (remember her birthing experience?).  The interesting twist on Lisa’s monthly parties is that you never know why she is throwing one.  I have attended jewelry parties, life coaching parties, home good parties, clothes parties, and raising your self-esteem parties. There are always two things in common with her events: 1) plenty o’ food and drink and 2) the need to bring a checkbook.
 
But this party was more esoteric than her usual shindigs.  For a mere $60 (cash only, please) you could purchase 12-15 minutes of time with Jorianne (aka Sister Christian), The Coffee Psychic.  Sister’s claim to fame was her ability to read your future from the cream she poured into an average cup o’ joe.   Apparently, the way the Coffeemate settles into the coffee means a lot more than you think it does.

imagesCA0NQIA0(FYI – in case you’re in need of an exorcism, worry no more.  Sister can get rid of that devil once and for all for the bargain rate of $500.  Unless you have a particularly stubborn demon - then it’s negotiable.)

A fool and her money

Some of the gals

Some of the gals brave enough to be photographed

So there we were, all fifteen suburban moms waiting anxiously to hand our  money over to the local clairvoyant (yeah, do the math – Sister was netting almost $300/hour). 

Things got off to a rocky start though when our telepathic tutor announced that no alcohol was to be consumed until after we had finished our session with her.  A hush settled over the room and an awkward silence followed.  It was only until Lisa offered to babysit each of our children for a night that the gals even began to come around, but the natives were restless and trouble was a brewin’ (no pun intended).

Sister stood before us – a handsome blond, in her early fifties, with plenty of nice jewelry.  She looked sweetly around the room, staring at each of us as though she knew our secrets and announced, “If you see me barking like a dog or baying like a sheep, there’s no cause for concern.  I sometimes channel animals.”
 
But this was cause for concern because I do not channel animals nor do I speak their language.  I also am concerned about taking advice from a cow – we usually just eat them.

Sister Christian

How could you not believe her?

“Also,” she continued, “If I say something that doesn’t apply now it’s because I might be referring to something that has happened to you in a previous life or something that will happen in your next life.”
 
Wow, what a disclaimer – when else could something have happened?

“Lastly,” she stated, “I want you to hear something.”  She pressed ‘play’ on a small hand-held tape recorder and we listened to Sister Christian and a client talking.  All of a sudden, a loud and clear ghostly voice interrupted the session. “Sister,” the spirit continued, “Sister . . . Sister.”
 
“Did you hear that?” Sister shook her head and held the recorder up to the heavens.  “That was the client’s dead grandmother contacting me – right in the middle of our reading!  Can you believe it?”

Frankly, no, I couldn’t believe it.  Was she kidding me?  I’m no techy, but in this day and age I’m going to need to meet that spirit and get something in writing before signing on to that program.

Not as smart as I look

400px-Astro_signs.svg[1]

Notice the Gemini symbol looks like pi symbol? Smart and psychic - not so bad, huh?

Sister wrapped up her intro and we all chose lots to see who would go first.  I, of course, drew #15, so I would get to spend the next 3 1/2 hours eating chips and guacamole and waiting for my turn at bat.  The good news – I would have the opportunity to listen to the stories as, one by one, the gals came back from their reading and spilled on what had gone on.

“She told me I would get warts and my husband’s ex-girlfriend was stalking him,” Dawn grabbed her first margarita and chugged it.

“She told me that we would have catastrophic financial troubles this year,” Jenny added as she poured herself a glass of wine.

“Yeah, well, Sister told me . . .” Meagan took a deep breath, “I would have another child.”

“NO!” we all shouted in unison.  Who was this woman that was wreaking havoc on the lives of innocent people?  I couldn’t wait to get my shot with this poser.

Taking matters into my own hands

Finally, at a time that I normally would have been sleeping for a couple of hours, Sister called me in.  I don’t know if it was the lack of sleep or the lack of margaritas, but the bravado I had planned on had lost its charm.  I knew I would do something, I just didn’t know what.  Sister smiled sweetly at me and I offered up a cheery “hello.”

She put her hands to her temples, closed her eyes and asked in a quiet voice, “Is there a ‘Bob’ in your family?”

“That would be my brother,” I answered.  But this is not true.  My brother’s name is Mike.

“How about a ‘Sue’?”

“My mom,” I lied.

She looked up at me, surprised.  “Dave?”

“Oh, my gosh.  That’s my uncle!” I exclaimed.

At this point, I wasn’t sure why I was fibbing to this poor woman just trying to make a buck (or three hundred). Maybe I was waiting for her to be psychic and call me out on my obvious falsehoods, but she didn’t.  Either I was a really good liar or she was a really bad psychic.

Now this is the crazy part . . .

She was visibly elated and her hands shook as she poured the creamer into the coffee and watched as it sank into the swills.  It was a moment before she sat back.  “The cream has spoken.  You have some kind of a gift.”  She rubbed her temples and continued.  “But you are afraid to share it. Hmmm . . . what is it?  What are you hiding?”  She was genuinely curious.

“Well . . .,” I started.  I now knew why I was jerking her chain – after three hours and enough artichoke dip to kill a horse, I was enjoying myself.

“Go on – don’t be afraid.  You’re in a safe place.  Sister is here.”

I took a deep breath before I went on.  “The thing is . . . I’m a psychic, too.  I see . . .” I almost said dead people, but I didn’t want to push it so I finished with, “the future.”

“I knew it!” She tapped the desk with her palm. “In a previous life you were a witch or a shaman or a mystic.  You had psychic powers and they have stayed with you.”  She closed her eyes and shook her head.  “You need to explore your gift, don’t let it scare you, let it lead you.”

“Praise Jesus,” I said, caught up in the moment.  But she was so excited about my supernatural abilities that I was beginning to feel sorry I had lead her on.  And oddly enough, I do feel like sometimes I know the future – like when the boys get home from school, I always know there will be a fight.

She pulled out her business card and pushed it across the table.  “I want to show you how to use your gift.  I want to teach you how to explore all the universe has to offer. I can help you.”  She reached out and touched my hand.  ”And I’m running a special this month for a price you can’t beat.”

Only if she teaches me how to communicate with my dog.  I’d like to know why he bites people and poops everywhere but in the yard.

4 Responses to How I became a psychic

Leave a Reply