I wasn’t asleep; I was wide awake. It wasn’t a dream. It was another one of those damnable things that has happened to me all my life—the things I’d tell my mama and she’d get nervous and say, “Oh no, not another premonition.”
All my life I’d had these, and I hated them as much as my mother feared them. I could see things. It made me sound a little crazy, but it was true—I really could SEE things. And those things would come true and freak everyone out, including me.
So here I am again, sitting by my window, wide awake, and seeing this thing happen. It’s so hard to explain. It’s not like I’m actually seeing things and people outside my window—only trees and skies. But in my mind I’m seeing something altogether different, and the vision is as clear as the trees and sky just outside.
I see a middle-aged man, walking down a dark road, with a broken-down car with blinking lights in the background behind him. Another, younger man is coming up behind him, and he’s totally unaware that another car had stopped just past the broken-down one. He doesn’t even hear the guy walking behind him. He just suddenly feels a sharp pain between his shoulder blades as he falls face down on the ground. He’s not sure what happened, but he is acutely aware that he is dying. He struggles for just a minute, then it’s over and he dies there in the dark. I can see the killer rifling through his clothes, taking his wallet, his watch, and then as if the vision isn’t weird enough already, he pulls off the man’s shoes.
I shake my head to clear it out—go away damnable vision. I wouldn’t mind so much if I could ever know who that man was, or who the killer was, and could go to the police and save him. But that part never comes to me, and the stress of these premonitions never eases as the years go by.
But, I can’t dwell on this. I have a date tonight with a group of old friends. I’ve cancelled twice and can’t do it again. So I get shaved, and dressed, and start out on the back roads to get there because I hate driving on the interstate. I’d only gotten a few miles down the road when a yellow light came on the dashboard. Damn! Now what is wrong with this car?
The car is sputtering and spitting, and finally comes to a dead stop. I’m a good 5 miles from anything and suddenly realize I’ve left my cell phone at home and have no choice but to walk it. I put the blinkers on—wondering why because who in the devil would be out here at night—and start walking. The lights from my car seem to get brighter, but I don’t even turn around and look. I know exactly what’s going to happen.
All my life I’d had these, and I hated them as much as my mother feared them. I could see things. It made me sound a little crazy, but it was true—I really could SEE things. And those things would come true and freak everyone out, including me.
So here I am again, sitting by my window, wide awake, and seeing this thing happen. It’s so hard to explain. It’s not like I’m actually seeing things and people outside my window—only trees and skies. But in my mind I’m seeing something altogether different, and the vision is as clear as the trees and sky just outside.
I see a middle-aged man, walking down a dark road, with a broken-down car with blinking lights in the background behind him. Another, younger man is coming up behind him, and he’s totally unaware that another car had stopped just past the broken-down one. He doesn’t even hear the guy walking behind him. He just suddenly feels a sharp pain between his shoulder blades as he falls face down on the ground. He’s not sure what happened, but he is acutely aware that he is dying. He struggles for just a minute, then it’s over and he dies there in the dark. I can see the killer rifling through his clothes, taking his wallet, his watch, and then as if the vision isn’t weird enough already, he pulls off the man’s shoes.
I shake my head to clear it out—go away damnable vision. I wouldn’t mind so much if I could ever know who that man was, or who the killer was, and could go to the police and save him. But that part never comes to me, and the stress of these premonitions never eases as the years go by.
But, I can’t dwell on this. I have a date tonight with a group of old friends. I’ve cancelled twice and can’t do it again. So I get shaved, and dressed, and start out on the back roads to get there because I hate driving on the interstate. I’d only gotten a few miles down the road when a yellow light came on the dashboard. Damn! Now what is wrong with this car?
The car is sputtering and spitting, and finally comes to a dead stop. I’m a good 5 miles from anything and suddenly realize I’ve left my cell phone at home and have no choice but to walk it. I put the blinkers on—wondering why because who in the devil would be out here at night—and start walking. The lights from my car seem to get brighter, but I don’t even turn around and look. I know exactly what’s going to happen.
