Psychic by Wild Bill 80

Are you old enough to remember the love-children of the sixties, who would stare at you, unblinking, convinced they could see your aura, "whatever that was." I was told that there was an energy field of gold emanating from my taut body. My body was taut back then. Remember I'm referring to those years when I tried whatever was going on, except drugs, booze, sex, and there must have been something else I missed. Mother Theresa was probably wilder in her life than I could even imagine in mine. A cool, mixed-gender type wench who studied astrology was convinced she could find the source which made me golden. I went along with the adventure and supplied her with my place and time of birth. After weeks of plotting detailed charts she proclaimed I was a "grand trine". Apparently we trines are rare. Of the 12 astrological signs, ten of mine were all fire signs. "No wonder you have so much energy. My god. Ten fire signs. You are going to do something important in your life."

The fall fair came to London this week, and in a narrow tent like structure, made of tie-dye fabrics, sat an attractive gypsy-styled creature who read palms, tarot cards, tea leaves, and had a fist of tiny bones scattered on a velvet cloth which framed her glistening crystal ball.

"Come in and I will give you a reading at only half cost."

That was when it hit me. It was an experience I have to share with you. It happened when I was teaching high school art. A few of my students urged me to let Frank one of my students, read my tarot record. Why not. They said he had seen and predicted that one of my students would die of an over-dose, a month before the tragedy happened.

Frank hardly knew my name, but what he revealed was outstandingly weird. He said there was a tall, heavy-set man who was out to destroy me. It came true. He stole my entire savings, which then was about fifteen thousand dollars. Then Frank said," I don't understand why, but it looks as though within a year, you are going to quit teaching and become very successful at your new field." Frank was right. I became very financially successful as a professional artist, and several of my paintings are now in Canadian Galleries.

He also foretold that I would survive a serious illness and will have a long happy life. Again my psychic, way back then, could hardly know that a few weeks ago I made it to 80. But unfortunately Frank did not see his life and its imminent tragedy. He moved to Vancouver, where he admitted he was gay, and a few un-gay guys tried to beat some sense into him, and Frank died of his injuries in his early twenties.

So do I believe there are genuine psychics. I'm not sure. How about you?