I work as a psychic medium, who does a lot of phone readings. Recently I talked to the President of the United States. He was nervous, acted the bully, and said he would pay me immediately after the call with Venmo, my usual procedure (so far he hasn’t paid). This is how the conversation went: “What’s going to happen?” The president wanted to know. I told the leader of the free world I would meditate for a moment. “Your guides say,” I begin, “Your emotions are nearly out of

The boy came out of the school, and with his round head down, he crossed the street. His name was William Wickham, and he carried with him his second grade reader. It was a heavy book, with wonderful pictures of Native Americans on horses, and great wooden sailing ships braving terrific storms at sea. There were also pictures of children, bright flowers, and little puppies on the beach. The reader was frightfully heavy, and William set it down on the stonewall bordering a

Do you like live music? That is, can you sort out the music from the interior commotion of the people at a concert? After all, you are a psychic medium and sometimes music comes at you from the oddest directions. Ordinarily, at most large, live concerts you end up listening to the inner struggles and joys of the folks in attendance. But you were in San Francisco for psychic business, and on a night off you pranced over to the Golden Gate Theater. Friends of yours from LA

“Get out of the car!” I reluctantly turned my head and looked at my mom. We were in the car on the way to visit my dad in prison. She had pulled over onto the side of the narrow road. I began nervously fixing the green bow in my hair. “My dad is not a dumb jerk,” I muttered. “Get out!” Her tiny eyes blazing with alcohol and anger, my mom reached over, opened the door and then shoved me out of the car. I landed in the dirt on my butt and back, with my feet flying up over my

You live in sane comfort in Northern California. You pay your taxes. You have a garden. You are peaceful with your neighbors. And, you have a meaningful occupation that challenges and satisfies; you are a psychic medium therapist. Thus, as a lightworker, you find yourself troubled by your country’s violent ferocity at home and around the world. But, you logically reason, you are not God. Your job is only to bear witness to events. Or so it seems. *** “Well, it was a terri

Living With a Psychic Medium From the January/February 2015 Isis Scrolls I am a lawyer and I am married to a psychic. Years ago, when my family first met Jesse they thought he was crazy; they love him now. I met Jesse Austin in the dark. I had broken up with my boyfriend ,and I was going to college but living with my family in Santa Rosa. Dejected, I found myself walking—wandering really—nearly every night after dinner. One evening I passed a young man wearing white and ca

Your mother didn’t want you. She said ‘no’ and sent you spinning off into space - a lost star, an abandoned spirit without home, family or love. You are destined to range through the unseen universe as a tiny mite of nothing that will never, ever be something. You are abortion, God’s greatest sin. Not even the devil wants you. You shall never swim in a lake, eat a peach or hug your neighbor. You are the ‘no’ that rings through infinity. And darkness, oh my goodness, you k

You can’t decide between getting married or going on a trip to Tibet. Danny G, your live-in boyfriend, is tall, reasonable looking and has a job with a future. But he refuses to be part of your dream and journey with you to amazing Tibet. He works happily in a bank as a loan officer. Danny is on just his 53rd incarnation, and he is still dazzled by the camouflage of earth life. Going to Tibet for him is a distraction from endeavoring to make a significant career splash. “

You are a psychic medium. Do you have feelings? When you read people and they are suffering, do you suffer? Well, yes and no. You do suffer in the moment with your client’s travails. Your chest hurts if the departed mother died from her heart. But those sensations and sensibilities don’t last. When the client walks out of your office, your mind is divinely erased, and your prime needs will be lunch, dark chocolate and the score of the latest SF Giants game. Are you a mons

You reside in St. Camille, Oregon. These are the last, glorious years of your life. Sleepy St. Camille is near Chonee University, where you still have an office. Your wonderful lawyer wife, friend Raven, died three years ago. You were partners for 48 years. Not that Raven has gone silent; now and then you still hear her clear, carefree voice. Your colleagues indulge you and quietly shake their heads. You are still active at the university, and you continue to publish in vario