Never say never . . .

If I'm really honest with myself, I'd have to say that I didn't want to return to giving readings. The hiatus for me felt liberating because I wanted fewer responsibilities elsewhere in order to take care of my children. I felt pulled in too many directions. But things change. People change. Ghosts pop up in your dreams.

I ended the hiatus today with a scheduled reading for a longstanding client. During the reading, I remembered a dream in which a an elderly female ghost told me: "She needs to know she's dying." I thought, "Wha'?"

My client needed to know that an elderly aunt would pass soon. I hate passing on that kind of information, especially since it can be so vague. Elderly people always pass on! But the ghost -- of a stern disposition -- herself was elderly, with bone-straight, shoulder-length grey hair.

We had a good laugh about the nature of that kind of communication, the client and I, and I raised my voice slightly: "It wouldn't be so bad if I could just have A LITTLE MORE INFORMATION." I looked quickly around me, hoping someone might take a hint.

It brought back the humour to my memory. It brought back the freakin' strangeness of it all. It brought back one more thing in the form of my client's question:

"Do you have any idea how you affect other people's lives?"

Catch Up

I can't believe how many people have already booked appointments for exactly one year from now.

One of the clients who booked said, "You're really popular."

It kind of makes me feel pressured to resume readings but, as my husband points out, I could always cancel the appointments and tell people that I won't be giving readings anymore.

Then, again, I may really want to do readings at that point. We'll see. . .

Through the fog that pregnancy has induced around my brain, I'm still able to see some things. Actually, I'm intuiting.

It's a close relative's new boyfriend. I don't trust him. I can't even bring myself to meet him. There's something not right there . . . This close relative -- close in the sense that we speak often -- can't understand my reluctance.

I've told her of my impression in this respect but she disagrees, even though I predicted his arrival in her life a couple of months before he actually appeared.

The Helpful Wife

Scully tromped through the wilderness with his friends over the weekend, canoeing an hour-and-a-half to his campsite. He was completely out of reach of cellphones and email.

On the way home, he called me from a payphone:

"I should be home within a few hours."

"OK. Wait...I have an impression." A terrifying image followed a mental picture of my husband but I knew that he would be fine.

"There's going to be a very bad accident on the way back but it doesn't involve you or your friends."

"It already happened. A car was half-submerged in the lake."

"Oh. OK." It didn't feel like the accident I was talking about, but, hey, how could I be sure?

When he got home that evening, he told me: "Some guy decided to walk out into traffic... It was a huge accident! Cars piled up, etc." This happened after talking to me.

I honestly don't know why some people think that crossing a highway is, well, even possible. But, there you have it, someone did and the consequent mess delayed Scully's arrival by about two hours.

On The Phone

I'd been telling my sister for the past few months that her best friend had something wrong with her stomach. Something wasn't right.

Last week, the doctor found something: a bacterial infection.

"You were right," my sister said.

Nice

When clients take the time to tell me how my predictions turned out, I always appreciate it. I mean, people usually just tell other people which -- don't get me wrong -- is a good thing.

I recently helped a client get in touch with a long-lost relative by giving her the name of someone who knew where he was and in which city he could be found. She wrote to tell me that it all played out exactly as I said it would, names and all, and that she was now in touch with the relative.

She was so grateful. I felt all . . . I don't know, just so happy that I could help.