Loud and Clear

An Open Message to One of my Curses

I have never heard your voice. I don't even know who, or what, certainly not where you are. If you’re anywhere! But you're coming through loud and clear...and I have to say, I have no idea why I should believe you now, if in fact I ever should have.

(Some of the things I write are the purest of fiction, others really aren't, but must be presented as such. This time, I'm not saying.)

The first time you showed up, and I can't say “appeared” because, you didn't - you awakened me while I was yet a child, a very memorable and horrible moment, deep in the dead of night. I didn't know anything at all about you; so of course I did not recognize you. But the effect your visit produced was decidedly negative to an extreme, as I awakened in grief like I’d never before experienced, and in tears. To the best of my recollection I'd had no dream or nightmare before it, and I had no idea why I felt so terrible – but very specifically, for someone who happened to be quite close to me. I remember I was not able to sleep for a while after that. It was so long ago, I don't recall if I slept at all after awakening that night. But awakening thus left a very powerful impression on my young mind.

The occurrence that followed about one month later cleared it up for me. You were prescience, either an unknown power or much-maligned falsehood, perhaps a mental and/or emotional aberration. But I could not deny what had occurred. Our much beloved family dog, who had reached the ripe old age of sixteen and who never ventured near the road, succumbed to the crushing weight of a vehicle.

Had it been the only such event, I might have forgotten about it. But it was not; throughout my teen years you seemed to follow me, as if determined to see to it that I would never be alone. And you had the most fertile of imaginations with which to do your work. I began to see everything in a strangely analytical light. I realized that neither people nor things were ever, ever exactly what they appeared to be. And far worse, because of you, I began to doubt reality. I gradually became suspicious of everyone and everything, and I knew no one around me shared my perceptions. It was very socially debilitating. I became sure that something was wrong, specifically, with me.

At last, however, in spite of you, I mustered my resolve and recovered my grip. I recall the event with clarity. But you did not go away, I simply ceased to fear you. I do not fear you, even now.

In my dreams, in broad daylight while awake, in a semi-awake state, no matter if I was fully occupied or doing nothing more than walking, you came to call. You have always been a problem for me, because for a period of time as an adult I believed many of my imaginings to be prescient thoughts when actually, they were probably not. And yet, I will never know for sure, because I tried to use you. I confronted my closest family members or close friends, asking them to be careful. “Don’t fly for a while, okay?” or “Avoid College Avenue today. Or anyplace near it.” or “Please, stay off the road today. I mean it. Really.” I believe that in most cases, my target individuals listened, because they knew me.

But other than such small things, I might have believed your occupation of my existence was over, until 2001. There were others in my car with me when it happened, and thus there are witnesses, as I told them what I’d just “seen.” You showed me a clear image that definitely was not there, but a clear image nevertheless, of a full-sized passenger jet, moving far too slowly and flying much too low, traveling west. It was a standard grayish-silver aircraft with both red and blue markings, one week before Flight 93 became one of the tragic airliner casualties on 9/11.

I just got up and took a hard look in the mirror. I don’t look like I’m kidding at all.

Tell me, prescient curse, what was the use of that? What information existed there that had the potential to help anyone? If you are a legitimate phenomenon, where is your causality?

And yet...you persist.

Then, at last, I began to write, and everything changed. The stories told themselves in most cases. I was often sure of the ending before I began, in others, I had no idea where it was going. But it was uncannily easy to do. You had a hand in that, didn’t you, prescience?

But if you had always been there when I needed you, I might not have totaled a car. You weren’t. I might have known it was coming before my parents had that accident. I had no idea. Or when my own mother fell ill. Ha, nothing from you.

All of those things were life-changing events. So why the inconsistency? It only creates unwelcome confusion, although frankly, I do appreciate the heads-up, when it counts.

And now, at last, I believe I understand. You will actually never come on-cue. I cannot use you. You will show me something if it’s really, really going to become a big deal to me, and then, only if it suits you. Because you’ve done it again. Yeah, I got it, loud and clear.

There is a stark difference between common worries and an event you’ve shown me. And I dare not tell anyone exactly what it was, because even now I doubt you. I would look like a fool if it didn’t happen. I’m just simply, not telling.

But I will say this: things that have occurred within the past year have shown me what is possible. What I’d thought was one kind of enlightenment was actually a revelation of quite a different kind.

I haven’t told many people about you. Small wonder, right? I’m nuts.

Many years ago I sat and told my mother about the things I was experiencing, and a formerly light-hearted conversation took an immediate turn. Her smile vanished and I thought she was about to advise me to seek some help. Instead, she became dead-serious, and then, after some moments of silence, she softly spoke. She said, “You must be careful never even to imagine anything negative. You can affect what happens.”

I have to say I’ve never really believed that. I still don’t. That would be a bigger thing than even telekinesis, would it not? And yet...

What I have seen is something I cannot help but want. So now, at last I’ll know, because despite the possibilities, it seems extremely unlikely to me. Strange prescience, you may have stepped in it this time. You shall surely be disproved because of the clarity of it. This was very definitely one of “those.”

So suppose it does happen. Just suppose. What do I do about you then? And if it does, I’ll have one more question. It’s the same one I’ve asked myself since the passing of our family pet. You know what it is, don’t you? It’s a simple question, really.

Do I have you, or do you have me?

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