Sight Unseen

Don’t call it ‘psychic’. I hate that. I hear psychic and think of ridiculous, gypsy-clad charlatans asking interrogative questions more than giving one’s perception of what is before them. Don’t call me a soothsayer, medium, prophetess or any of the like. It rattles me. What I possess I prefer to call ‘the sight’. I believe that I can see what others cannot. It was not always this way. It all began very gradually.

When I was six years old, I went on a vacation to Disneyworld with my immediate family. This was my very first time leaving my native country and I was introduced to the States, resplendent with youthful fantasy. The usual; Mickey Mouse, the Magic Kingdom and every fairytale princess I wanted to be at such a tender age. But my recollections of that joyful time are dwarfed by something much more foreboding. I was sitting next to my mother on the plane heading back to Trinidad. Still giddy from my experiences of meeting Snow White and riding in the Teacups, I dozed off with a smile on my face. When I awoke, I was very alert. I turned to my mother and calmly said, “Rex is dead”. Her brow furrowed a moment before smoothing out. She flippantly decided that I had dreamt about our dog back at home and awoke speaking nonsense. We arrived home safely that evening and got settled in. My father went over to our neighbor who agreed to keep an eye on things while we were away. When he returned, his face bore the grave look of an unwilling undertaker. His words measured out with care, came slowly. “Rex…is…dead.” My sisters and mothers gasped with disbelief. What followed was my mother, holding my face in both her hands, demanding to know what had made me speak those very words just a few hours earlier. I had no response. I just knew. In retrospect, I favorably did not know the details of his death. I hadn’t seen that, thank God. Incidentally, two burglars came to rob our home the night before, and our Rex attacked the duo, only to have his throat slit inhumanely. They abandoned their heist when the noise brought unwanted attention from nearby houses. Our neighbor buried him in our yard. It didn’t even make sense to me. At the time, I had no idea that this was just a glimpse into the sight I later learned to accept.

The peculiar thing about this so-called gift was that it honed itself approximately every seven years of my life. In my early adolescence the signs grew more striking. There were times I lay awake at night and distinctly heard fragments of conversations spoken in the very room I was in. Alone and confused, the voices would reach my ears and swim around in my head. They were not inventions of an idle brain; these voices were all too real. Days later, in passing I would hear the exact conversations, word for word. This was not vague déjà vu. I literally heard these people speaking just nights before. It was unnerving and I didn’t know what to make of it. Fearing some sort of mental instability, I shared this with no one. Clairvoyance was the last thing on my mind.

It took some time for me to fully comprehend and respect this gift. There were other incidents. A strange feeling or a random thought would manifest itself into my immediate reality. Once, walking up my street to catch the bus I thought, ‘It would be so unfortunate if there was an accident on this block.’ Within minutes, I rounded the corner to the sound of screeching breaks and the unmistakable impact of metal hitting flesh and bone. A man lay in the street. It was jarring but I was enveloped by a cool sense of calm- which I now recognize as innate perception.

People often josh me about lottery numbers or who will win some celebrated sporting event. I wish it worked that way but it doesn’t. The truth is I have no say-so on what I see or feel beyond my five senses. It visits me for a time and then it’s gone. For a bit I investigated palm reading. That was interesting but not my forte. I did learn however that what most forecasters can see on the lines of a hand, I could see in a person’s eyes. But that happens to leave both parties feeling exposed and uncomfortable so I shy away from it. I may never know why I have this ability. Like any other gift from above, I understand that it can be taken away. Born into another time, I might have burned at the stake for heresy. "Fools rush in where angels fear to tread." -Alexander Pope.

I try never to lose sight of that.