I would never say I’m psychic because I think even saying it conjures up images of 1-800 number frauds, but I would go as far as to say that I am a very intuitive person. I don’t get visions or anything. I get feelings. When I was little, I assumed that everyone could sense these things. I would always know within 30 seconds of meeting a person whether or not I was going to get along with them; I could sense that someone was going to call me and would be waiting by the phone; I always knew if someone was lying to me or embellishing in any way; I could also pick up on emotions or thoughts of people around me without knowing them or even having spoken with them.
I didn’t know that this was strange until several years ago when I was eating dinner with both of my parents and I started to tell a story of someone I had recently met and I mentioned that I was never going to be good friends with them because of A, B, and C. My mom nodded like she understood whereas my dad put down his fork and looked at us both and said, “There is no way that you know within seconds of meeting someone if you are going to like them or not. It’s impossible.”
My mom and I tried for several minutes to get to him understand our point of view, but he still maintained that it was simple not possible.
I would say that my intuition has served me well over the years. Sometimes, friends tell me that I’m paranoid, like when I deliberately cross the street to avoid someone who was “giving off weird energy”. I think because of that I sometimes try to suppress my intuition – only to learn later that my initial feeling was correct. Now, I would rather be thought of as slightly paranoid and eccentric than lose my wallet, car, or something worse. (Note: the point of this post is further down).
For example, I several times I’ve been nearly robbed and the only thing that stopped it from happening was an inexplicable feeling I got suddenly. Also, I knew as soon as I met L that he was special and would play an important role in my life. Last year, I knew without having proof that my headaches were not from a sinus infection and that something worse was going on, but I was scared to admit it.
I don’t think that I’m special. I think most people are born with the ability to sense these things. However, I also think that as people age, they learn that it is supposed to be “impossible” to “sense” things that cannot be sensed using our five senses – the “third eye” being a topic that is rarely discussed.
I’m a big believer in energy and feeling how that energy changes. A good friend of mine says she has an uncanny ability to tell when babies are going to be born – even though the mother is nowhere close to her due date. Another friend and I will sometimes have similar dreams with the same characters and environment.
Today, I was having a great day. Yes, it’s a cloudy, gray, and cold winter day, but I passed the short eye-exam required to renew my license and I now feel like I belong on the road again (I was so nervous for it that I was shaking when I had to look into the blinky lights test). After that, I bought a new computer that I had been researching (I’m typing on it now!). It went on sale and I knew that if I was going to be going back to Chile soon I had to take advantage of the low prices offered here in the States. Then, I was hungry, so I drove a few blocks to a Panera where I ordered a delicious sandwich and sat there sending L emails on my phone while I ate (the computer was safely hidden in the trunk).
Later, I came out of the restaurant and debated crossing the street to get ice-cream to celebrate renewing my license, but for some reason I felt compelled to return to the car. As I approached the car, I saw four men standing around it. I momentarily questioned whether it was mine (okay, it’s actually my brother’s but for this week it is mine), or if I had made a mistake. They were surrounding the car and looked about ready to try the doors. I ran – as fast as I could run in high-heeled boots – and yelled, “Hey, that’s MY car.”
They stopped and all started saying at once, “Whoa, sorry! We thought this was our car. It isn’t. Weird. Looks like our car…”
Three of them turned to walk away, but one of them approached me. “Ma’am,” he asked oozing the same fake charm a pawn shop dealer uses when scamming you out of a priceless heirloom, “Can I ask you something? Do you like perfume?”
I pulled myself up to my full height, which was impressive with the boots, looked him in the eyes, and shook my head slightly while sternly mouthing “NO.” It’s a movement that I learned is particularly effective in Santiago, and, apparently, in the suburbs of the Twin Cities, as well, because he walked away.
I got into my car and as I was speeding out of the parking lot, I saw them open the trunk of a car that: 1. looked nothing like mine so there was no POSSIBLE reason for any “confusion”, 2. had what appeared to be merchandise falling out of the trunk.
As soon as I got home, I called the police. I realize that the police can’t do much about a “bad feeling”, but I thought it might save someone else the hassle of losing their car. The dispatcher made me feel chagrined for calling at all. She said that by the time I was home and had looked up the number for the police station, 20 minutes had passed, and therefore it was hardly a viable reason to call. She barely listened to my story and nearly hung up on me, “yeh…yeh…whatever. I’ll pass it on to an officer and maybe they’ll drive by.”
Five minutes later, the phone rang. It was the officer. He said my story coincided with someone else who also called in. He said that they found the car and were now watching it to see if the men returned, but so far they hadn’t seen anything. He asked me for a physical description of the men and a play by play of what had happened. When I finished, he said it matched what the other caller had said, except that the other caller had been mostly concerned about them possibly selling stolen merchandise. I almost replied, “Oh, is that a problem…” but I didn’t because I remembered what country I was in.
I have no idea what happened after that, if they saw the men or questioned them, and at this point, it doesn’t matter much. I honestly think that if I had followed my craving to buy ice-cream, I would currently be at the police station filing a report instead of typing this blog post.
What are your thoughts on intuition? Have you had any moments where you just “felt” something?