The male psychic was line-free and wearing a skintight, fashionable knit
Each week, Dominique McMullan tries something new
'He asked me if I was his three o’clock. I stopped myself from saying, 'Well, don’t you already know that?''
This week I went to see a psychic for the first time. My friends didn’t think this was a good idea. I didn’t really, either. Vague horror crossed their faces and they said things like ‘What if they say something awful?’ But I’ve decided to try things that make me a bit uncomfortable.
I was dubious before I even arrived. Not a great way to start. I tried thinking of questions to ask. That was the first hurdle. Any question I thought of, I dismissed. How could a psychic know what was going to happen in my future when I didn’t even know what I was going to have for dinner? It was all getting a little existential so I was relieved when the psychic answered his door.
A surprising character appeared from the basement flat. He was tall, muscular and wearing a skintight, fashionable knit. He asked me if I was his three o’clock. I stopped myself from saying “Well, don’t you already know that?” His eyes were like those you expect of a psychic, wolf-like and icy, but his forehead was that of a real housewife; shiny and line-free. “Been having Botox for 20 years,” he revealed when I later remarked on his youthful appearance.
Our session took place in what can only be described as a material-lined cupboard. We sat facing each other with tarot cards on a side table between us. I was determined not to give anything away. I consider myself a spiritual person, not in any religious sense, but I certainly believe in something existing beyond what we can see and touch. I tried to keep this in mind as he shuffled the cards. He began by saying things that “he couldn’t have known”, including noting a change in my workplace in October (I started this column and moved departments).
There were also many things that were totally wrong.
I’m not going to ruminate on the techniques I suspect were used, because once the fortune-telling was out of the way, the psychic and I got on like a house on fire. We talked about men (they’re all a bit immature but we can’t help loving them), having children (I’m told they’re hard work) and where I got my dress. As I left he said the most telling sentence of the session: “You know, a lot of the time my job is just about making people happy, and confirming in their heads what they already know.”
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