June 21, 2007
Nine years ago I was in a desperate state. I was working for a stock broking company in Las Colinas, an area between Dallas and Arlington. It was a job I hated beyond hate, but felt I had no where to turn to get out of it. Kim and I had split for the final time. My Rottweiler Alexi had just died. I was paying back massive student loans and making sweet fuck at my horrible soul-sucking job and each month 5 bucks literally meant whether IÂ’d be eating or not. On top of that, I had a drinking problem in which IÂ’d take my favorite magenta plastic cup, fill it with two-thirds vodka and one-third orange sorbet and then proceed to drink myself to the point of spinning oblivion, collapsing on the bed at some point and succumbing to Kafka dreams to the nightly whir of my Texas air conditioning.
This happened nightly.
There wasnÂ’t anything in my life to stay sober for.
Someone I worked with told me about a psychic she saw regularly. I took a yellow post-it with the name and number and made an appointment. After work one day, still dressed in my business suit, I drove to her apartment at our agreed time. I still remember the apartment complex – a mock Tudor sprawl somewhere in Arlington - but I couldn’t for the life of me tell you where the apartments were, and I used to know everything about Arlington.
I remember it cost $25 for a one hour session. This was money I barely had to spend on legitimate things like little pieces of plastic that came with a 16.9% APR, let alone on a woman purporting to be a psychic. When I paid her it was in a $20 bill and $5 in quarters, which was my laundromat money for the week. I guess the price of clean clothes was worth the cost of hope.
Besides the money for a few bottles of vodka I had nothing to lose.
IÂ’m a cynic, and since she couldnÂ’t see my face anyway I figured she wasnÂ’t spending her time reading my reactions. I still remember the blind woman and her blind miniature Collie.
She had a short blond bob and was kindly chubby in a “sweet Great-Aunt” kind of way. She had a few candles lit in her very modest apartment. Periodically during the session her little blind dog would get up, walk around, and smack into furniture. The house smelled like herbs and spices and talcum powder.
I wondered what I was doing there.
I remember a lot of what she said still. I donÂ’t know if we make what the psychics say come true because we believe thatÂ’s some kind of path for us, or if thereÂ’s something to what they tell us. What I remember at the time is what came out of her mouth was so far-fetched I could never, ever have believed it could happen. It was a whole world away from me and where I was. She couldnÂ’t possibly have known about the drinking, the loss, the absolute unquestionable need for faith (in something, in anything) that I had. I was slowly killing myself through drinking, despair, and my bulimic purges.
So maybe it was enough that someone came in and told me a story that gave me hope to get out of my situation. Someone told me about something that she said would be happening, and maybe that was what I needed to give me a kick in the ass to do something about my life. And the damn strange thing of it all is that everything she said has – so far – come true.
She told me about lights in the ceiling in a cold building that would lead me to a man with blue eyes. The man with blue eyes would lead to a country on the other side of the water, a country that started with “Sw”. The “Sw” country would lead to a lot of things, some good, some bad. It would lead to me spending the rest of my life with someone, and we would someday live by the water.
There I was, wilting away in Texas, and it was all so surreal it was a dream to me.
But the strange thing is, she was bang on in some parts. I got a job with a consulting agency which paid me 10k more than I was making. I bought a new car and some confidence. I worked hard and worked my way up. The consulting company sent me to a telecom company in Dallas, and then to another one, one which I had never heard of but which the headquarters were based in Sweden.
Sw.
She was right.
Then I went to a hockey game (lights in the ceiling and cold building) which lead to a flirtation with a guy who had blue eyes.
She was right again.
I took a position in the Swedish company. I moved to Sweden.
Even if youÂ’re a cynic, you have to admit that itÂ’s a bit uncanny.
Sweden led to another man but, above all, it led to Angus.
He has the bluest eyes of anyone IÂ’ve ever known.
She told me more – that I had a hard time and some times in my future would get harder. She told me that I was meant to be a writer, that what I had to offer the world would come from words (I’m trying on that one, honest.) She told me someday I would live by the water (still working on that one, too.) She did also tell me I had five guardian angels and that I’d had seriously miserable and uneventful past lives and that this life I am living now would be my last one, but then you can’t win them all.
But here’s the thing that I don’t think I’ve really talked about – she told me that I would have two children. She said that one of them would be very talented in the performing arts and would go far. So imagine my surprise when I found out the local secondary school near our little white house is a performing arts school. She told me that one of the children would cause great worry as a baby, that something was wrong with its heart or something like that, but at birth all would be ok. And we did have worries with one baby, to the point where we had tests, but the baby has a completely normal genetic karyotyping and the anatomy scan yesterday showed no abnormalities at all.
Stop reading now if you don’t want to know, but the rest is beyond the jump – I didn’t blog about it yesterday as I wanted to tell my dad and stepmother about the results before my mother and sister read about it on the blog and decided to tell him for me, as they have very crudely done with other things. We're going ahead with the results as it's not like I can keep it a secret for 15 more weeks, it's much too big for that.
The psychic told me that IÂ’d have a son and a daughter.
And she was right about that, too.
-H.
Posted by: Everydaystranger at
04:08 PM
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