A useless talent

Sometimes I have prophetic dreams. I discovered this years ago when I dreamed that my mother was being carried down our steps on a stretcher. Less than twelve hours later, I watched that exact scene played out in real life after Mom had a stroke. It was startling to say the least.

But usually, my little bouts of ESP have no significance whatsoever, and are certainly of no use. Like the other morning when the phone rang as I was dreaming about a pile of pumpkins in a supermarket.

“Did I wake you?” asked my friend Barb.

“Yeah, I was dreaming about pumpkins.”

“Really?” said Barb. “I’m at the market looking at a bunch of pumpkins right now!”

Things like that. Totally useless, but fun nevertheless.

So last night when I dreamed about raindrops splattering the ashes from the wildfires on my balcony [yeah, I really need to sweep up around here], I paid no attention. No way was it going to rain in drought-stricken San Diego today — all the forecasts were very clear about that. It was just another dream.

Later, I headed out to deliver some yoga tapes to my poor daughter-in-law Karen, who is suffering from near-crippling sciatica, pinched nerves, and other painful things I can’t remember. Poor thing. I opened my front door and laughed. There were raindrops in the ashes. How cool is that?

Near Karen and Chris’s place, more drops splashed my windshield and I laughed again, remembering my dream. Yep, I thought, I’m psychic. How fun. Not as good as Alison Dubois, but it’s a start. Maybe I could read up on how to get better at it. I might even find a use for this, um, talent.

Ruminating on these things, I made a left turn. Right into the path of an oncoming SUV. I hadn’t even noticed it coming toward me.

HONNNNKKKKK!!!! blared the SUV’s indignant driver.

“FUCK!” I yelled.

EEEEKKKK! went my brakes.

The SUV continued on its way, leaving me in the intersection, gasping for breath and holding onto my heart, as other drivers stared at Stupid Me. At last I lurched from their baleful gaze and moved, chastened, toward Chris and Karen’s place, thinking, “Now, why couldn’t I have dreamed about THAT?”

Useless, I tell you.