So, I went to see this psychic.
I like to say it puh-sychic, because then I don't feel like I have to take the whole thing as seriously as I am kind of inclined to do, because I have this natural inclination to believe in all the jim-jam you're likely to find at a puh-sychic fair. I don't necessarily believe in each of the individual purveyor's claims, but that the abilities exist in some people somewhere seems kind of normal to me.
I once felt/knew/intuited cancer in my uncle's dog, and then a little later he took her to the vet because she started acting tired, and, lo and behold, she was riddled with it. The dog died anyway, but the fact is that I knew.
Anyway, I went to see this puh-sychic. No, wait. She wasn't a puh-sychic. She was a tarot reader.
I don't normally go to tarot readers. In fact, this is the first time I've ever paid for the service. She was there, I was there, and she was grossly undercharging for her time, so I threw down some bills and let her do her work.
For the first couple of minutes, she just kept turning over cards and saying things like "Holy crap!" and "What the hell?" and then looking up at me with an expression that spoke of both disbelief and sympathy.
I knew exactly what she was doing. She was looking at the last couple of years of my life. You know, the years with the cervical cancer, the hysterectomy, and the slow hiss of an emotional breakdown that had been simmering for some time before that.
I felt kind of relieved for her when she moved on to my present life, which she said is still complicated, but infinitely better than before. I could have told her that. I so rarely hide in the dark under quilts now that the behaviour seems a little odd. Also, I like things now. I didn't like things before. Liking things is kind of nice.
She told me that I am supposed to be very selfish about my needs right now, because if I'm not, I could fall terribly, terribly ill. It was at this point that she stopped to blink her eyes really slowly and nod her head and pull the corners of her mouth down to emphasize how grossly ill I could get if I didn't become more selfish, pronto. Here's to me being selfish for my own good! I will no longer share my chocolate gelato.
The session went on for quite a while, because apparently the details of my life required reading a lot of that deck of cards, but my favourite part was in the middle of the reading when she told me that I should move far, far away from here and that my money troubles would disappear. I am thinking that east is a good direction to go.
The funniest part of the reading was when she looked at one of the cards and said "This may sound strange, but I'm seeing a big cat. There's a really big cat, and he touches you all the time. He's very attached to you." That would be Onion, the cat who must be touching or looking or meowing at me during his every conscious moment. HE EVEN MANAGED TO INSERT HIMSELF INTO MY TAROT READING:
My least favourite part was when she told me that I MIGHT NOT ACHIEVE MY DREAMS. Seriously. She looked ahead into my future, paused, looked up at me, and then asked "Do you have any life dreams?", and I said "I do, absolutely", and she said, "I can't really tell for sure, but you might not achieve them", but she said it in that way that sounded like she was softening the blow by using the word might, and then she added, for good measure, "That success just might not happen for you".
That's when I knew that this tarot reader was for real, because otherwise she was just some ginormous bitch who took my money and then crushed my hopes for the future.
Are tarot readers allowed to do that? Are they allowed to tell you that your life will get better soon but that that might be it for you, have a nice life with that limited success thing you've got going on, the end?
BECAUSE THAT FUCKING SUCKS.
UPDATE: There has been some negative commentary about the tarot card reader in response to this post, so I would just like to clear up that I really, really, really enjoyed my reading with her, I would hire her for parties, and I did find her insightful. People's comments, as usual, do not necessarily reflect my feelings about the nice woman who read my cards last week.