“You see that Psychic's parlor across the street?”
She nodded.
“You ever been in there?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, once or twice. But the thing I hate about psychics is that they always seem to know your past, and not your future...So I didn't really care for it that much.”
I nodded. “Sit down.”
She looked around to see if her manager was watching, and then cautiously sat down across the table from me.
“What you have to understand is that the future is difficult to foresee. It is always harder to read more clearly than a person's past. But some people CAN do it with amazing accuracy.” I slid a pad of paper over to her along with a pen and turned my attention to my meal.
“Write a phone number on that pad for me. I'm not looking, so I can't see it. But make it a random phone number, not one that you know already.”
I took a mouthful as she set to work.
“Now, I want you to imagine that you picked up my phone” I nodded to my phone on the table in front of us, “and dialled the number you just wrote. Imagine that a gentleman answers the phone. Write his name down, along with a description of what he looks like: his hair color, his eye color, and some other details.”
I polished off my drink while she did as she was asked. As I set the mug back on the table, she put the pen down and looked me in the eyes.
I carried on nonchalantly.
“Now my dear, being a psychic in the way that you wanted is nearly impossible. Reading the future is not a simple task. It isn't something everyone can do, and so many people read the past instead. But I felt as though there was something different about you. You weren't annoyed about the psychic because you wanted to know about your future. You were annoyed because a part of you, somewhere deep down, knows that you could have done her job better.”
The waitress in front of me didn't have time to really digest this last statement, because at that exact moment, the phone rang.
She looked down at it. I looked down at it.
I nodded, and she swallowed hard and picked up the phone and looked at the number and then up at me in disbelief.
I held her gaze for a moment and then said “Answer it.”
She did, and had a brief conversation that left her trembling.
It was a wrong number – of course – but at my prompting, she asked the gentleman on the other end his name, and for a brief description of his appearance. It matched in every detail the person she had envisioned in her mind a few minutes earlier.
“What in the hell just happened?” Her voice shook as she said this.
I shrugged. “Life is full of both happiness and dark moments. The next time you are feeling down, I want you to remember today – and promise me that you will always hope for miracles - Because they do still happen.”
I stood up, dropped some cash on the table and left.
I have it on good authority that she didn't move from that table for a good ten minutes.
That's just one effect from “Reach Beyond The Sun” by Art Vanderlay. Dish out the cash, as it is worth every cent.
Best,
Atlas