Day #25 of My Search for My Soulmate – and How Damien Echols Stole My Reading

VACATION!  Andre Bocelli is singing, appropriately, Libertá, and the song is so joyful it makes me want to dance.  The cats, in grave danger of being tripped over,  fallen on and utterly squashed, if such an event were to occur, are quite pleased that I have restrained myself from trying – and failing, I’m quite certain, with the useless feet and legs I have – to dance. 

Two days until I can finally get a set of snow tires put on the car … three more days until the surgeon can tell me what’s wrong with my lower legs and feet … luckily, I’ll have something fun to do before the back surgeon hits me with the bad news (i.e., “HA HA!  ’yer crippled for life!  Live with it, ‘ya gimp!!”) – Part I of … er … draws a blank on the title … you know, that Twilight movie - opened yesterday, so I’ll be able to sneak into a matinee on Monday after all the screaming teenaged girls have cleared out and gone back to school and have my own guilty pleasure moment.  Forget Team Jake or Team Edward – helllooooo, Team Quileute!  Er, I mean Gil Birmingham!

Was awakened this morning with more horrible leg and foot tendon and muscle cramps that turned my feet inward and down – I couldn’t even press my feet down flat on the floor to get the cramps massaged out.  The “Search” is temporarily on hold until I can get a diagnosis on my legs and feet – the last thing I want to do is saddle some poor guy with a crippled soul mate.

So I attended a “Messages from the Beyond” thingie this afternoon, at a local occult bookstore.  The last time I had any contact with a psychic at all was at a Renaissance fair, about 10 years ago.  The woman ten years ago couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn – not a single thing she said was right.  Didn’t have much hope for this thing either – I was just curious.  I had one question for the “Great Beyond”:  were my feet going to be healed, or was I going lame?”

I shuffled out of it thinking I must have some psychic black box surrounding me – the psychic (who I’d never met before; I didn’t know anyone in the room either) – hit so many bulls-eye’s it was staggering … didn’t even go fishing for them either … but only one of them was about me.  That one was impressive in its specificity, but had nothing to do with my feet:

“Older woman behind you, passed on.  She says she was an excellent embroiderer.  You have a lot of her work.  The sewing table that she bequeathed to you was stolen.”  Bulls-eye.  I mean, such a bulls-eye my jaw dropped.  Maternal grandmother.  Every word of that was true.

That was it, though.  Here are the remainder of them:

“I see a young man, connected with you, isolated for a long time.  I don’t know why.  Why am I seeing the Boston Red Sox?  He’s, like, REALLY obsessed with the Boston Red Sox.  Sagittarius.  Do you know who that is?”

I gulped for a second time.  Well yes and no.  Knew who it was, but “connected with me”?  How does someone say, “Yeah, he’s my signpost”?  More importantly, what’s he doing in my reading?  Never met the guy in person, and besides, he’s galavanting around in bleeping New Zealand!  Let him get his own reading!  She went on:

“Well, the spirits say to tell him they’re working on him.  He hasn’t passed, right?  He’s still alive.  Has he been ill?”

I mutter, “Yeah, I think so, maybe,” still P.O.’ed that Damien hijacked my reading.  Besides, I wasn’t the world’s best expert on his health, either.

“Well, tell him they’re helping him.  Lots of spirits are gathered around him, helping him.  He’ll get much better.  He feels downhearted about it.  But he’ll be fine.”

“Uh … okay.”

WHAT ABOUT ME??!!??  Am I going to be a cripple?  I’m getting pissed at Sekhmet, too, for being so silent.  Why don’t they see a lioness behind me?  I think, “Sekhmet, will you roar or something?”

The psychic turns to a woman two seats away from me.

“Why do I see an Egyptian Temple?  I see you walking through two gigantic pillars into an Egyptian temple.”  She goes into more detail about being drawn to an Egyptian spiritual being.

"You're going to learn a great deal from this being; you'll experience a tremendous amount of spiritual growth."

Now I’m thinking, “Huh?  Wait, that’s ME, that’s the temple at Karnak.  Sekhmet is through those pillars.”

The woman two seats away from me looks startled and completely clueless and then goes, “I dunno, maybe because I read a biography of Cleopatra?”

My head drops in despair.  Remind me never to go to one of those things ever again.  I alays walk out of them feeling utterly ignored by the universe in general and completely “unreadable”.

Anyway, Damien?  You’re going to get better.  There.  Message delivered.  As for whether or not I’m going to get better?  Who knows?  Kudos to the psychic – she did hit a string of bulls-eyes, I have to admit.  I just wish they had been about me.