My Best Friend Was A Psychic or King Saul Went to a Medium and It Didn’t End Well

In a dream, I saw my psychic (her latest incarnation) drawn in a fine black ink on the front of a book. Her portrait was on the front of a book face out on all of the shelves of a grand bookstore. There was an oval of white around the sketch. I had seen the book listed, but it didn’t click or register within me until I saw a copy of the book in my hands. It was a memoir about how Madam came full circle from her past life in the last century until this one as a psychic. She was running with her pal, the Hollywood One. She reached toward me in secret while she was wheeling and dealing with the woman who wanted me dead. I believe she was using the One in some manner and letting me know it. But why would she return to me when she had destroyed and mocked me? Were they paying her to pretend to be my friend again? Was the psychic my friend or my enemy? I withdrew from her life. I’m sure I had annoyed her, but she always broke bread with me and said she was my friend. Perhaps in her mind I was a friend. Once she mocked God and laughed at me and I had to walk away. What did it matter? I could be replaced by another client.

My little friend once predicted she would come to me with money after I had been left alone. She said I’d be in London. She said I’d lose my home. She said she wanted me put away where I belonged. She said I’d be in the Arts and that my job was my last job. She said I would have a massive heart attack and die. She said I would be engaged. She said I’d be famous. Well, well, well…I miss the woman who used to shop and joke with me.

As I look at what I penned...I never went to London. The rest will happen, I am sure. My friend is famous and an author. I am happy for her.

My predictions came true about her, but I lost my lifelong ability to be a psychic after I had an intervention. I no longer channel. I cannot write the way I used to.

I no longer dabble in the occult. It has been a lonely spiritual road for me.