That’s it. I’m never going to a psychic again.
Well, that’s what I said last time.
Before I went to a psychic again.
How can you blame me, guys? It sounds so fun — and it is. Well, at least until you’re walking out the door, checking your wallet and wondering whether that $100 you just gave her was the last you had to your name.
I wouldn’t be so bitter about the $100 if any of the stuff came true. But so far, I’ve been left with no boyfriend, no job and no free pizza. So, yeah, I’m bitter. I don’t even consider myself a gullible person, but I guess I have to start putting that on the resume.
It’s not fair, you know. My grandma had clairvoyant friends, so she got the info for free. Not only that, these clairvoyant friends were the real deal. Meanwhile, I’m over here paying these hacks for fake news.
Despite that, join me, won’t you, as I recount my favorite psychic experience.
In 2022, my friend Alexa and I were on our usual Dunkin’ run. Being from Massachusetts, I have about 38 Dunkin’s to choose from in any given town, but we liked this particular Dunkin’ off of the highway.
Now, when you’re driving down the highway you drive down almost everyday of your life, you tend to not notice your surroundings, but there was always one house that stuck out — the house with the hand mailbox. Underneath the hand mailbox was a sign, which we always saw and ignored, except on that day. While in the Dunkin’ parking lot, we called the number for psychic readings.
Dave, one of the owners of the hand mailbox, said that his wife, Anna the psychic, was free and that we could come on over. It was great timing, considering we were just up the street.
Once we reached their driveway, we sat in the car for a moment. Neither of us had ever seen a psychic before. So, to make ourselves feel better, we agreed that we would stop Anna the psychic if she tried to tell us anything bad. And with that, we went inside.
Dave answered the door, sandwich in hand. Don’t worry, he asked us if we wanted a bite. We weren’t hungry though — thank you, Dunkin’. One of those Special Victims Unit shows was blaring on the TV, and while we were still standing in the doorway, he asked us if we liked the show. Not really, Dave, sorry.
As we started to question our decision amidst all of the small talk, a figure emerged from the dining room. She was wearing her pajamas, holding a cup of tea and had a soft smile on her face. Her greeting could barely be heard over Dave and the TV, and suddenly, she waved us back to sit with her at the dining room table.
Anna the psychic decided that I would go first because I was doing something along the lines of “pouring out energy,” so she scooped up my hands. I have pretty clammy hands and didn’t know there would be a palm reading portion, so when Alexa decided that she would go sit and watch TV with Dave during my reading, it seemed like a pretty good deal.
Anna the psychic proceeded to tell me things about myself that I already knew, but it was cool because I kept saying “how do you know that?” For example, she knew that Alexa and I had been friends since we were very young. Cool. She knew that I’m an open book and like to talk a lot. How could she have known that?
Then, she told me things about my career far into the future, so I won’t be able to confirm or deny that stuff for you now.
Next, she said I had two guys pining after me. Of course! My on-campus crush and my best guy friend. It made total sense — thank you, Anna.
I proceeded to ask “Who should I …” until she told me that this wasn’t the question portion of the session.
Then, the thing we dreaded happening, happened. Anna asked me if I wanted to know something bad she saw happening to me. So, I said no. Of course, she said she was going to tell me anyway.
Anna the psychic saw that in my future, when I’m around 60 or something, I’m going to fall very ill. I will have to travel back to Boston, where I will find a team of two foreign doctors. They will work together in harmony to cure me. Then, I am going to live a very long life. She saidI would live into my 90s or something around there.
The end.
Well that wasn’t a great ending, but my time was up and it was Alexa’s turn.
This probably doesn’t exactly make you understand why I like going to the psychic. Listen, I don’t know why I like going either. I don’t want to be told that I’m going to battle some mysterious illness when I’m 60. I want to be somewhere sunny, drinking a bloody mary when I’m 60. However, Anna the psychic did say it would be an illness I’ll survive. So maybe that’s the point: hope.
Hope that you’ll have a cool career.
Hope that you’ll fall in love.
Hope that you’ll meet two foreign doctors in Boston who will help cure you.
I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the hope that you’ll come out of it with a funny story.
Here’s to hoping, my friends.
