I guess there’s no other way to say it, other than to just blurt it out – I have trouble believing in mediums. Sensitives, clairvoyants, fortune-tellers, psychics, soothsayers, oracles, seers… Whatever you want to call them, I wrestle with the whole authenticity issue. I believe there are such people, but not many. In the paranormal, we must be lucky, because there appear to be a lot of them. Right off the bat, I can think of 17 people I know by name who contend to be sensitive in one way or another. And each one of them comes equipped with a testimonial-wielding sidekick ready to assure me that in a sea of charlatans, this one is “the real thing.”
“Okay. Cool. So tell me what you see?” I usually ask that right away. Why dance around the issue, right – whaddya got? Well, apparently, I don’t travel alone, because everyone sees one or more spirits attached to me. An Indian, a wolf, an old lady, a man dressed in a dark suit – only a few of the many stereotypical invisibles in my entourage. From the ridiculous to the sublime, I was once informed that a clown was following me throughout the room. Another time, that I carried somewhere between 13 and 23 spirits in tow. Well, I was feeling sluggish that day, so that might have been accurate, but she told me they were always with me and that some of them weren’t very nice. I later mentioned this to another medium, who paused for a few seconds before suggesting that I must have misplaced a few – she only saw four. I was sufficiently dazzled.
Surely you can see why I have difficulty believing. It’s not that I think they’re fakes; I don’t think they’re all delusional. I’m convinced that they believe whatever it is they’re saying. It’s just that I do not. On an investigation, a “sensitive” and I were alone in the master bedroom, when all of a sudden, he shushed me. Little did I know, there was an exotic animal under the bed. I forget what it was, but it was definitely a dark spirit that had control of the room and our presence was arousing his anger. We needed to leave. Well, I got up without dissent and walked out behind him. I was speechless. I went back in later, of course – with someone else, but I think the creature was probably gone.
The point is, I don’t like to have these people along on investigations. I’m sure that a real medium would be different. I’m sure there are situations where those particular skills come in handy, but I don’t like a lot of nonsense when I’m investigating – it gets in the way. It’s not as if this stuff ruins the feng shui of the environment, or messes with my chi, but it’s really difficult for me to focus on why I’m there when the person next to me appears to be in the middle of some kind of episode. “Someone is with us.” Oh well, case closed, I guess.
But what really bugs me the most is when they try to infect me with the same “disease.” Everyone assumes that since I record a lot of EVP, I must be sensitive too – just like they are, but with my own unique set of gifts. “We all have gifts, you know.”
Not me. I’m not being resistant. I’m not afraid of having gifts. I think it would be pretty cool. I’d be thrilled just to exchange a polite greeting each morning to however many spirits are hanging around at the time. But “you just haven’t developed your skills. You should work on it,” they say. “I think you might be very powerful.”
Well, I am polite. I smile and feign interest; give that look I use when I’m pretending to be fascinated. I assure them that I’ll think about it, and that usually makes them happy, but they’ve lost me, because I know I am not sensitive. A person knows such things.
I realize there are all kinds of studies being done on the subject, and I am always amazed when I read about them. I feel guilty for so many years of doubt. Maybe all these people are the real thing. Maybe if I wouldn’t be such a skeptic, I could see the true value of their skills – I’ve probably been harsh and unjust. Maybe so, but as sure as there are rats on the moon, and Rice Crispies in the bowl, I am not one of them.
Well not in this universe, at least. I mean, nine-hundred universes to the left I’m like the biggest psychic there is. And I’m not overweight there either, and I’ve aged much better. But here? I’m just me. No bells or whistles, no visions, mental images, or intuitive feelings. But if you’re one of those sensitives, and my guess is, there’s a good chance you are – don’t tell me. Let me see if I can figure it out on my own.