Instalment V – Wherein our Little Heroine reads the signs

Tales from the Tropics II

Today, my phone went black. It’s hotter than the surface of a thousand burning suns and won’t turn on. It’s been having tantrums these last few days, probably warning me of its intention to quit. You always see the red flags Little Heroine. Swim between them.

Talk about a digital cleanse. I’ve been lying to myself, the most harmful kind of lying. I deleted facebook (the app), which was helpful, and I mainly stay off instagram- I wonder how true that is? The universe has conspired against me and told me to sit the fuck down, and start writing. Is this a punishment or a reward?

I don’t have anything to say which is the real shame in all this. I sometimes think of a novel as dominos lined up in a row. Each domino is an idea, a concept, a sentence, a pain- line them all up, push one over and watch the rest fall. It’s a Pulitzer! If it makes you feel better, I’m lining up my dominos.

I hope I have some nightmares tonight because at least they are visual and psychological which makes them interesting to write about, maybe not interesting, but easy. And I am willing to take the easy way out.

But was it prophetic?

As we have firmly established I am psychic. I have yet to have a vision regarding mankind’s demise. There’s a patron saint of Psychics (according to the internet-not verified by priest). St. Algabus, pray that you will not fear the future you behold. I haven’t tallied the opinions in the bible if psychics are the devil’s work. If God sent visions to people then can I get a moral judgment on whether attempting divination is bad? Or is it only morally bankrupt if it’s commercial? Should I only see free psychics?

Fun story- during the dark times in Melbourne, I lost my mind and paid a fortune for a fortuneteller to cleanse me of the shadow in my Turkish coffee cup. My ex-bf’s psychic. He foretold our breakup. GuyZ, don’t stress. I broke up with him. I came out good but I was sure sorry that I broke his heart. He didn’t deserve that one. He was kind and I was unkind. I was surprised when he told me he had a psychic, I wonder if the psychic tells him we will be together because his psychic told me we wouldn’t. Spoiler alert. I mean, it’s all a house of cards that’s constantly shifting. Once you make a decision you shift your fortune. Guess that’s what makes fortune telling so profitable. Lot’s of odds. I do believe that we are destined to follow a certain path so even if you shift your fortune God will re-route the GPS so you end up at your final destination. Dead. Joking.  

I guess it’s the same thing as ‘you can do things the easy way’ or ‘the hard way’. Me, I’ve always been a believer in the hard way. Now that I’m life worn, I will definitely admit that the easy way is looking pretty damn enticing. Although I suspect that even when I choose the easy way it ends up hard. What can I say? The Lord loves me so much he wants to push the limits of my character to breaking. I guess that makes me interesting to him or it is my most narcissistic coping mechanism to date.

My peers are uncomfortable with the language of religion. I guess, the basis for the underlying human desire and need for religion is an explanation and I, forever, confronting everyone’s soul, probably make it uncomfortable because I have sided with Catholicism and decided to run with their explanation and will admit faith comforts me. All these questions about God and destiny, I wonder if anyone else concerns themselves with them or if the thought of mortgage repayments outweighs the lurching anxiety underneath their skin (or better yet provides a reason to feel the burden of living in an explicable way- “of course I’m worried, I may be homeless or worse appear poor SJ”). Dear friends, do you wanna trade anxiety? Mine’s existential. Baby, you might like it. I never understood that it wasn’t normal to be excessively melancholy or to wake up breathless and afraid. We are all crazy because you can only measure your own sanity based on the yardstick that is your mind. Uh oh. Tell me I’m not psychic. I dare you.

Maybe I should ask my friends, what is the source for the emptiness in your heart? Mine is that I am so completely obsessed with thought I forget to live. Watch out though Little Heroine. When you live you live too hard. I think the only thing that can fill the human soul is love. Is that dumb cause it’s so obvious and if it were so easy why are there so many bad people in the world? Hail Mary full of grace…. And that is why I will get on my knees and pray. Obsessively.

I had a dream about my psychic. Her name is Anabella. She has green eyes like a witch’s cat. She was dressed all in black and all I could see were her eyes.

She is doing a reading for me. When I realise I am in a dream, it almost feels like waking up. I am disorientated by the texture of the new reality. I wake in my dream while she is giving me an answer to a question I can’t remember asking.

“There he is, he’s in your cards. He’s coming. Your souls are tied.”

“Are you sure?”

I look and I don’t have to doubt cause I can read the cards too, I follow the thread and I’m afraid it never ends with us and no matter how many times I make a wrong turn the damn GPS keeps rerouting us to this destination and I don’t think it’s a white picket fence. I think it’s retribution but I don’t know who wronged who in a past life and all I feel is the suffering between us.

She keeps pulling cards because she wants to know about him, I don’t. The cards are from a deck I don’t recognise. That I know doesn’t exist yet. They are beautiful though. Soft, hazy water colours that you could almost step into. There’s a giant tree and the leaves are made of handprints repeating in tonal shades of blue against a blush pink sky. And in the card there may be the reason he can’t love me. But I can’t listen to her tell me what it all means. I don’t want to know about him. I’m emotionally reacting in my dream and all I feel is hurt and sadness and fear to unbearable degrees. I can almost feel the meaning of the cards and the handprint tree within me but there are no words to bring it into coherence. It’s like trying to explain the feeling of sad. Like three letters can encompass the mourning of your heart. I feel everything about us and between us on the edges of my own consciousness. Worse than a true memory. Before the answers unfold my psyche rescues me, sometimes it has my back. When I wake up all I want to know is how my psychic was going to interpret this one. Free reading! Thumbs up by God?

Whatever was in there, I wasn’t ready to see.

Today’s the 6th.

Yesterday, I had to bury the first piece of lead that my ex bf’s expensive fortuneteller gave me. Yes, that’s correct. He poured molten lead into a water bowl and it created some weird shape and he told me that I needed to bury the lead in forty days far from my house. He then gave me two more pieces to bury at forty-day intervals. It clears the “shadow”. I speak ethnic too m8 and when you say shadow I know you mean curse.

So I paid a Turkish fortuneteller a lot of money to severe the connection between my twin flame and I. So? So! When I told my regular psychic she was rattled. Never rattle a psychic, pro tip- it’s for your own benefit. She said you can’t touch a twin flame connection it’s almost like psychic rape.  Well if he’s really my twin flame it won’t severe and if he’s just karmic it will. No harm, no foul.

Why did I dream of him for the first time in almost a year, the day I buried my first piece of lead? How many psychics does it take to clear a twin flame?

This isn’t even the broken heart I’m prioritising ffs.

SJ xx

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