It All Started With That Damn Prediction Party

Last week I attended my first-ever Prediction Party. Hosted by our town’s well-respected and highly connected medium/spiritual healer, the evening was a chance for about 15 women to ask her cadre of mediums (media?) what they saw for 2011. As the eight women sat in a quiet circle, channeling, I suppose, before we even began, we were instructed to ask broad questions first, beginning with international situations (for example, the world’s food supply, relations in Pakistan, Haiti, etc.), national queries (politics and the economy, obviously), the state (same as the nation, essentially), county and then our town. THEN, we got what we all were waiting (and paid $20) for, and were allowed to ask the eight media (some seasoned, others recent graduates of the ‘program’) one personal question.

Here’s the thing. I’ve always been eerily skeptical but at the same time enamored with the idea of the other side. I’ve just always wanted to experience it for myself to know whether I really believe in this phenomenon. I felt like I was sitting in on a taping of that long-gone TV show where the guy would stand before a studio audience and answer their questions about loved ones passing or health woes. Some answers seemed obviously gleaned from the right amount of information the person included when they asked the question. Others just seemed like what a well-meaning friend or even Oprah would suggest. Still others were shocking enough to where I thought the curious questioner had been planted. But then it was time to ask my own question.

My question was simple. After planning in fits and starts our own business over the last two years, I wanted to know if these kind ladies saw any progress this year. I didn’t include this in my question, but frankly we’re getting tired of people frequently asking us how the “planning” is going. The line of business we want to start is hard, and multi-faceted, and takes a lot of startup capital. We can work hard, we can multi-task, but the capital is where we fall short, so planning enough to get a loan or investors (and ensure success) is where we are now.

The ladies saw some great things. “Much happiness in this endeavor,” one of them said. “I see your business with fireworks over it, which is really good,” another offered. They saw bits and pieces of things I didn’t mention but are definitely elements of what we want to do. And then. The one woman who had all the right answers that evening, who’d zoned in on one woman’s partner’s dizzy spells, who knew another woman’s granddaughter’s problems revolved around an eating disorder, opened her eyes, turned to look at me, and said, “do you have kids?”

Fuck. “No…” the words escaped my lips as if I was a slowly deflating balloon. “… will I?” My mind immediately went back two nights prior, during which we drank our dinner at a local margarita bar and had unprotected sex (it’s ok! we’re married now!) for the first time in my 15-year humping career. As a product of a strict Catholic upbringing, this clearly meant I’d immediately be with child.

All eight of those women turned to look at me. I mean, fully came out of their channeling trance, some even having to shift in their chairs to look out of their circle, to finally see who this woman with a tiny voice was and why she sounded so paralyzed by the thought of this. The room became deafening with the sound of women fluttering like a gaggle of geese over this news.

“To be honest, I thought that was going to be your question as soon as you started speaking,” said one. “I see it too,” said another with way too much joy in her voice. The one who asked the question just kind of shrugged apologetically. What. The. Fuck. Seriously?!

“Wait!,” one medium whom I’d previously pegged as The Doomsdayer exclaimed. “Kids are baby goats! You want a farm, right?! They’re just baby goats! That’s it!” I pointed at her with a relieved but I’m-onto-you smirk. “Yes,” I said. “Let’s go with that. Kids are baby goats. That’s what you all are seeing.”

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One Response to It All Started With That Damn Prediction Party

  1. Pingback: After the Prediction Party | Go The World

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