Crystal balls, turbans, flowing robes, fringed drapery, cats, heavy eye makeup: these are some of the stereotypical images that the word “psychic” has always conjured in my head. Think Oda Mae Brown, Whoopi Goldberg’s character in Ghost. Imagine my surprise when I finally had my very first psychic reading and realized how wrong I’ve been.
My friends who consult psychics regularly convinced me to get a reading just for the heck of it, so I paged through the California Psychics listings and landed on London: Psychic London ext. 5308, to be precise. I chose London because she has a kind face and she’s a third-generation psychic. Compassionate, empathetic, experienced – she seemed like the right person to pop my psychic cherry.
London is a warm, friendly woman with a soothing voice. She uses cards as a tool, but I detected no evidence of any Oda Mae-style trappings. Per the “Tips for Your First Reading” on the website, I had a question ready when we started the session. I asked how things would go with my shiny new job, where I’d been working less than a week. London was gracious, but straight away uncovered another topic (a relationship, of course!) that had been bothering me for the past few weeks. When I asked how she knew about the guy, she told me her spirit guides clued her in. Spirit guides, I thought? Oda Mae?
Almost as if she knew what I was thinking, London described my own guides, who sounded exactly like my mother, my aunt, and my father, all of whom are deceased. I was blown away, and so was Oda Mae.
OK, I was listening.
London’s detailed assessment of my situation was startlingly accurate, and she assured me that a series of specific events would unfold within the next few months. I won’t go into what she told me about the guy (in case he sees this post!), but one upcoming event was a short vacation by the water. This was exciting, because I haven’t had a vacation in about 3 years, and a stay by the water sounded like just the ticket.
About an hour after my session, I was given the opportunity for a short stay at a boutique hotel by the beach in Santa Monica, California. I’m going there this weekend.
Oh, and the job? London says it’ll work out just fine.