I am one of the most skeptical people on the planet. I'm also one of the most superstitious. So, I don't believe in psychics, but if it is real I think it's bad juju. Despite this doubt and simultaneous fear of the black arts, a year or so ago, I went with my best friend, Syd, to see a psychic.
We wound up having this psychic "reading" because at a family function my cousins and I had a long conversation about the supernatural and the spirit world. Such conversations always lead us to the subject of our deceased grandmother and whether she's watching us from the clouds or blissfully unaware in the after-life. Since Gim's death my cousins have each had moments where they got a whiff of White Shoulders (our Gim's choice of perfume) or Ben Gay (our Gim's choice of medicinal perfume) and the feeling that she's with them even though she has long since past from this world. I have had no such encounters. I believe that Gim has passed through the Pearly Gates and never looked back. At least, that's what I hope.
My youngest cousin is good friends with a girl who's mother is a psychic (see where I'm going with this-- maybe you're a psychic!) so we talked quite a bit about whether the psychic could tell us anything about Gim or our futures, etc. I called b.s., but said I would go check it out if anyone else wanted to have a reading. These things always start with everyone saying it's a great idea and being on board with the plan and then completely disintegrate. No surprise that when the day arrived we were down to just me and Syd heading out to make our psychic connection.
The psychic resided in BFE and on the long drive I kept wondering why the spirits wouldn't have told her to move the hell back to the city where she could make a living fleecing people on a more regular basis. Jeez.
We finally arrived at an average looking house in an average looking neighborhood (in the boons). I think I expected a giant red palm painted on the side of the house or lots of crazy yard decor, but there was neither. The only thing remotely creepy was the extensive angel collection throughout the house. Not that angels are creepy per se, but when you're in a psychic's house with their porcelain eyes following you around, it can be a little creepy. Anyway, the psychic was also not quite what I'd expected. I think I conjure up an image of a Gypsy when picturing a psychic. But this particular clairvoyant, let's call her Madam Bullshit, looked like any middle-aged woman walking down the street. Madam Bullshit was a petite redhead and just as sweet as she could be. She led Syd and I into her "reading room" which was basically a small room with a round table, a few chairs, and 6000 angels. Creepy.
She began by taking down some basic information like my birthday, husband's name and birth date, etc. Why she didn't know that already I couldn't tell ya. I can't recall which of us she read first, but I can recall some highlights of each reading. She asked if I had lost someone close to me and I said yes. She asked was it an older woman? Syd leaned in, shaking her head yes and said, "It's Gimmie!" Way to play it cool Syd. Madam Bullshit seized on the information gem that Syd had given her and said, "Yes! It's your Grandmother!" Amazing!
I admitted that my grandmother, who I was very close to, had passed away some years before. She then proceeded to tell me that my Gim was living in my laundry room and she was stirring up a pie. WTF? Why on earth would my grandmother be hanging out for eternity in my laundry room? Why would she be continuously cooking? Is she in hell?
I've blocked out the rest of my psychic reading because it's stupid. When it was Syd's turn we learned that Mary, Mother of Christ, was her guardian angel. Yes, that's right folks, THE MARY, is watching over my little friend Syd. In fact, Syd had several angels hanging around her while I didn't seem to have any. I certainly don't have the Mother of Jesus working the room with me. Now, I love Syd, but she isn't Virgin Mary material. Who is, really? In an honest moment we'd all admit to doing things that would make a hooker blush and no one wants to be reviewed by the Virgin Mary.
Personally, I don't want angels or spirits of any kind hanging around me in my private time. The idea that in my most private moments unseen beings are watching is very unsettling. You mean when I was picking my nose or scratching my privates someone saw that? Or my Gim is sitting on the edge of the bed while I'm trying to catch a little Skin-O-Max? No wait, she's in the laundry room stirring up a pie. Thank goodness!
I'm such a freak show in private I would drop dead of mortification if I discovered I had a spectral audience. One things for sure, the little sex drive I have left (which is only enough for romancing myself) would evaporate instantly.
There are a lot of reasons I don't believe my Gim is hanging out in my laundry room, but most importantly I believe my grandmother loved her family too much to watch us from the after-life and have any kind of Heavenly peace. Seeing me standing in my closet on the verge of tears because everything I own is either too small or makes me look like a mobile circus tent would be too stressful for old Gim. That's why I believe she's with her Maker where she belongs and she knows only joy.
Bottom line, I don't really believe in ghosts. But, if I die any time soon I hope I'm trapped in George Clooney's bedroom with or without a baked good to prepare.