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Tuesday, January 25th, 2011

“Here was a complete stranger talking about us as if she had known us all our lives. And she was mentioning intimate details that we had never talked about other than within our own group.”

I play in a blues band, but I don’t do it for a living. I’m a computer programmer by day, and by night I live out my fantasies with three friends I’ve known since grammar school.

We write songs during our spare time and perform at small venues in the hope some record executive will hear us. After all, what’s life without having something to dream about and hope for?

Several months ago, we stopped by a place where we sometimes perform. We just went over there for some drinks and to listen to the newcomers who play there on open mic night.

As usual, the “talent” was mediocre, but then an older woman (when I say “older,” I mean she was maybe fifty years old) walked up to the stage with her guitar and started playing. She had a quality about her that was mesmerizing, particularly because she talked rather than sing.

At first she spoke about herself, her ex, her kids. Then she looked across the room at our table and starting talking about us. At first we laughed at everything she said because we assumed she was just winging it, making things up. She spoke about who we were, our aspirations, the kind of music we played, what did for a living. But then she was getting very specific – and very accurate. She was right on.

Here was a complete stranger talking about us as if she had known us all our lives. And she was mentioning intimate details that we had never talked about other than within our own group. Things like what we thought about the manager of our band, how we almost let our drummer go even though he was a good buddy (You should have seen the look he gave us when she mentioned that.)

And when she said Barry, our lead guitarist, was leaving his job to start a business, his mouth dropped open. He had never mentioned it to us.

Afterwards, she came over and sat with us. We questioned her knowledge of us and still thought it was some kind of trick. Then she dropped this bombshell: She looked at Gary and told him she was sorry his parents would be getting divorced. Gary stiffened and said his parents had been happily married for almost thirty years. She looked at him and nodded, then excused herself and walked away.

We all looked at Gary who seemed distraught. Then he called after her and said you may be right, they just started talking a few weeks ago about living separately. He asked how she could have possibly have known. She smiled and touched her heart. “It’s all in here,” she said. She wished us good luck and walked out of the building and that’s the last we ever saw of her.

H. Gubinoff
Toronto, Canada

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Tuesday, January 11th, 2011

“I said, how do you know about Marie, and she started leafing through one of her magazines. Looking up, she said it’s all in here, it’s all in here. Then she abruptly turned and walked out.”

I have worked in retail for over nineteen years and believe me, in that time I have seen everything – from the nicest people in the world to the nastiest. I’ve seen a woman go into labor and rush off to the hospital, and I saw an elderly man collapse in front of me with a serious heart attack.

But perhaps the strangest incident was the woman who was shabbily dressed and walked through the door carrying a stack of magazines. She laid them down on the counter right in front of me and started leafing through the pages, periodically looking up at me and smiling.

Then, in the calmest, sweetest voice I ever heard, she said, I’m not crazy you know. I had expected to hear a voice that was a little off, a little brittle. I didn’t think she would sound like a normal, intelligent person.

Holding a few of the magazines in her hands, she told me she picks up “clues” from writers who write in “code” in magazines and newspapers. Now I knew she was a whacko and she noticed the look in my eyes and said, I know something about you that could be very helpful to you.

I said, uh huh, sure. And then she dropped the bombshell on me. She put her face very close to mine and said, “You should marry her, you know.” I said what are you talking about, and she said, “Marie.”

Well, I was stunned. Marie was my girlfriend whom I had just met a month ago, and she was threatening to walk out on me if I refused to marry her. This had come to a head the previous night, and how in the world did this strange vagabond know about it. After all, I had told no one at work about Marie because I try to separate business from pleasure.

I said, how do you know about Marie, and she started leafing through one of her magazines. Looking up, she said it’s all in here, it’s all in here. Then she abruptly turned and walked out.

I never saw her again, but I’ll never understand how she did it. My best guess is that although I have no doubt she’s mentally ill and my heart goes out to her, somehow she has developed psychic capabilities that allow her to pick up information from a person’s thoughts.

And then it came to me… when she entered the store and walked toward my counter, Marie was definitely on my mind at the time. I think she “heard” my thoughts and that’s why in this large store I worked in, she came directly up to me.

R. Landry
Houston, Texas

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Tuesday, May 04th, 2010

“She possesses paranormal abilities that will serve her well in the future.”

I have a little toddler named Jamie.  She is the light of my life, and at the ripe old age of six months, I realized she “sometimes” had the ability to read my mind.

As with most babies, if I smiled while I held her she would smile back.  But with Jamie I soon found that if I kept a poker face and thought of something bad, she would frown or look puzzled.  But when I thought of something happy and joyful, yet still keeping the same poker face, she would almost always smile.

I demonstrated this to my husband who kept a sharp eye on my demeanor to make sure I was keeping a straight face, and he couldn’t believe his eyes.  And when he tried it, he elicited the same response from Jamie.

My little girl is now a couple weeks shy of two and a half, and I think she may have a few other psychic attributes as well.  For instance, when I come home with the groceries, I place my hand inside the bag, feel around for something, and then I ask her if I’m holding the milk carton.  She’ll either shake her head or nod.  I’ll do that with several more items, and I admit it’s something she and I love to do.  Her success rate is close to seventy percent, which is significantly higher than the law of averages.

I don’t think Jamie will grow up to be a world-class psychic, but I do believe she possesses paranormal abilities that will serve her well in the future.

Alicia Lopez
Valencia, CA

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Tuesday, February 09th, 2010

“Somehow I was hearing his silent cries for help.”

It was a cold day in Minneapolis and I wasn’t in the mood to go out in subzero weather.  So I grabbed a book I had purchased the night before, and I was ready to spend a comfortable afternoon huddled before the fireplace.

Little did I know I would soon be running around in the cold searching for the frantic cry for help I kept hearing “inside my head.”

It was the weirdest experience I had ever had.  One moment I was engrossed in a biography of Winston Churchill, the next I was dashing down the stairs of my apartment building without having any idea where I was headed.

At first, I had heard faint whimperings.  I thought maybe it was my imagination.  I day dream a lot and have a lot of imaginary conversations going on in my mind.  Call me strange, but that’s the way I am.

But the voice in my head started to grow louder and louder, and more frantic.  I couldn’t understand what was going on, but then it occurred to me that perhaps someone was in distress and somehow I was hearing his silent cries for help.

It was then I grabbed my heavy coat and rushed down the stairs not having a clue as to where I was going, and kind of hoping no one I knew would ask where I was headed.

I literally ran out the front door, stopped, looked around and let my senses take hold.  I started walking one-way, stopped again, and suddenly I had the urge to cross the street and move across the large lawn of a very old house.

It was then I heard the voice again, but this time it wasn’t inside my head, it was real.  I could actually hear the man faintly saying, “help me, help me.”  And it was coming from inside the house, or rather under the house.

As I moved closer to the building, I peeked through a small window into the basement, and there I saw a man lying on his side holding his back.  He shouted for me to come in the side door.

Well, it turns out he had fallen down the basement stairs, and wrenched his back.  He was unable to walk and was in too much pain to crawl back up the stairs.

Fortunately I had heard his silent calls for help.  It didn’t really surprise me because I feel I’ve always had an ability to pick up on someone’s thoughts.  This time, however, my psychic ability really paid off.

Dillard Kizer
Minneapolis, MN

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Thursday, August 21st, 2008

“I am a gifted psychic and I can read minds with ease.”

My profession is representing sportswear companies and my territory spans up and down the West Coast.

I have been blessed with what I call a special talent.  In effect, I am a gifted psychic and I can read minds with ease.  This is why I feel I’ve been so successful on the sales end.  Put simply, I can see the wheels spinning in my customer’s mind and because of that I am prepared in advance for anything they decide to throw at me.

For instance, when I’m on the phone, I can tell beforehand if a person is really interested or is shining me on.  I can also tell how hard a bargain someone is willing to drive; that is, I know when someone will walk away from a deal or is merely trying to get a better price out of me.

All this helps me in my negotiations, and it also enables me to have better relationships with my clients.  They see me as someone who sympathizes with them because I am able to read their minds, know what they want, and smooth the way.

I also am somewhat of a gambler, and visit from time to time in Las Vegas or Reno.  I love poker, and you can imagine how I have a certain amount of one-ups-man-ship in that I have above average instincts as to whether a person is bluffing or not.  And that is a huge advantage for me.

I haven’t made a fortune in gambling, but I am way ahead of the game.  I feel I have been blessed with psychic talents and I don’t feel it’s right to translate these powers to a card table.  So I do partake in poker, but to a reasonable extent.

J. Hillinger
Newport Beach, CA

Thursday, January 17th, 2008

“Myra said his psychic predictions are rarely wrong, and she trusted his unique talents.”

Myra is a good friend of mine.  We have known each other since we met when our kids were in the same scout troop.

Myra would tell me about her son’s unusual gifts, and we both thought it was pretty funny because Jeremy was a little rascal, and he loved to play tricks on people.

In particular, he used to play tricks on his teachers.  As early as second grade, he would raise his hand and say something like, Mrs. Cranston, did you get your washer fixed?  Sure enough, her washer had broken down the day before.

By the time Jeremy was off to college, his psychic talents were quite evolved.  Myra would tell me how Jeremy would call her from school because he sensed she wasn’t feeling well or when the dog had temporarily run away.

In fact, he advised her where to look because he had a vision of their puppy hiding in a nearby yard.  And sure enough, there he was.  Myra said his psychic predictions are rarely wrong, and she trusted his unique talents.

He hadn’t seen my son, Jeff, in quite a while and one day Jeremy called out of the blue and advised Jeff to check on his bank account.  Well, you guessed it; someone had stolen Jeff’s identity and was starting to run up huge bills.  Jeremy’s call had come in the knick of time.

And one last item:  Jeremy is currently working in hedge funds where instinct and intuition play a huge role.  Myra tells me he is making a fortune.  I’m not the least bit surprised, and I’m so happy for him.

E. Bell
Rolla, MO