My parents divorced when I was eight, and my dad moved into a three bedroom rental house. I wasn't sad to see them split up. This isn't one of those stories. In fact, I was GLAD when my dad moved out, because the frenetic energy of their combined ire was enough to keep my hair standing on end pretty much 24/7, and I already had enough shit to deal with.
For one thing, Daddy's new rental came with a disgruntled old guy who was angry at his wife for renting out their house and moving away. When I refused to respond to his complaints, or to even acknowledge I could see him, he started doing things like turning the old dial radio in the kitchen on and changing the stations, flicking light switches, turning the tv up really loudly, just general, inane annoying ghost shit. Eventually, he just gave up when he realized I wasn't going to let on that I could see him.
At this point, I'd pretty much convinced myself that all the things I'd seen were a figment of my imagination, and whenever one of them slipped through the mental block I'd put up, I just ignored them, hoping they'd go away. I'd still see the Indian occasionally, and I'd just close my eyes and tell myself over and over that he wasn't real. After all, good Christians didn't believe in that sort of thing, according to my grandfather. A person couldn't believe in ghosts AND believe in God, not even when you saw them staring right back at you. Supernatural experiences were obviously a sign of an overactive imagination, or insanity, and that's exactly what I told my dad's friend Larry the day he told me about his psychic friend.
( This sinner is on the highway to Hell, obviously. I mean, just LOOK at that carpet...) Creatureculture.com
Even at 8, I knew Larry was kind of an obnoxious prick who couldn't keep a secret to save his life, so it was no surprise to hear him say, " I'm not supposed to tell anybody, but I know this guy who's a one hundred percent for real psychic.
( Sure, I can keep a secret...) pixgood.com
I don't remember exactly how the conversation began, but it was something to do with a movie someone had seen about a psychic and how silly it was, which of course was a perfect opportunity for Larry to brag. I just rolled my eyes at him in the way of little girls who know absolutely everything.
" There's no such thing as psychics", I said with as much disdain as I could muster. " It's against the Bible."
Larry didn't like that. At all. " What the hell do you know, little girl?"
With extreme ignorance comes unerring certainty, especially for young children. I was undeterred. " My Granddaddy says that you don't believe in Jesus if you believe in stuff like that. It's a sin." So there. And don't you DARE put a dent in that wall I've so carefully crafted!
But Larry was oblivious to my internal struggle. In his eyes, I was just a little know-it-all kid who needed to be put in her place. " Well, how 'bout I just prove it then, you little smart-ass?"
I rolled my eyes again as he went to the phone and began dialing a number. I couldn't believe this guy had regular friends, much less psychic ones. Besides, wouldn't a REAL psychic know that he was friends with a blabbermouth jackass? I wasn't worried, much.
Whomever he was calling picked up after a few rings and Larry asked, " Hey man, you busy?" The answer must've been no, because he continued, " Well, I've got a little girl here who don't believe in psychics. Will you do the card thing for her?" Another pause and then Larry looked at me. " Go find a deck of cards."
That wasn't hard. My dad had at least five decks roaming around the house, so I grabbed the first one I put my hands on in a kitchen drawer and went back to Larry, who was holding the phone receiver out to me. I took it reluctantly and put the phone to my ear. " Hello?"
The young sounding guy with a weird Yankee accent on the other end did not seem amused. Without even an attempt at standard phone etiquette or nicety he sighed and said, " Okay, shuffle your cards and pick one." I did what he what he asked and picked the four of spades. Immediately, he told me which card I was holding. It seems like a small thing, but I was utterly blown away.
Now, remember, this was some time around 1984 when cell phones looked like this:
( Dr. Martin Cooper, inventor of the cell phone, calling his local Ferrari dealership.) e2save.com
The only people who could afford one of these ten pound modern marvels were affluent business types, being that they cost the modern equivalent of around $9000.00 with roaming charges of about $1.00 per minute. In other words, NOT something the average 30 year old blue collar fella from rural Alabama would be using to play a prank on a little kid. We had one phone in the house and the nearest neighbor was 100 yards away through the woods. I knew immediately that this guy had to be for real.
In retrospect, I'm glad the guy didn't prove himself in some more melodramatic fashion, because I probably would've peed my pants. As it was, I could only stand there, clutching the phone with white knuckles as I whispered, " How did you do that?"
The sympathy in his voice was as clear as if he'd said it out loud. " I just know", he replied sadly.
After Larry was able to pry the phone from my hands, I cornered him for the inquisition. Who was this guy? How was it possible for him to do this? Larry never would tell me the guy's name, saying that he didn't want people to know he was psychic because it caused him all kinds of grief, either because they wanted something from him or because they thought he was possessed or insane. I could certainly relate to that. The old man standing in the corner that only I could see had the good grace to look a little bit ashamed.
I'd like to say that after that, I fully embraced the weird and accepted my own abilities, but if anything, knowing it was real just made it that much worse. I didn't want people to treat me like I was crazy or evil, and what if it was true? I had nightmare visions of being given up for adoption because no one wanted a little girl that was in league with the devil like that creepy kid in The Omen. If anything, I just kept blocking what I saw that much harder until I couldn't see any of them anymore, but that didn't stop them from invading my dreams...
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