When I met him in college, we immediately clicked. He would have been angry if I had told him that I could "see" that he would end up with someone else.
I "saw" it almost immediately when I looked over his blond hair at lush summer leaves and a "picture" in the air, vague, in the far future, but crystal clear to me. He was logical, an intellect, and repeatedly tried to discount my more "normal" objections to this relationship. So I went off with someone else.
He came to get me at the other man's place. What followed was a back and forth that lasted over time with him often angry at me, but always something deep and otherworldly between us, no matter where one of us was.
Even though he eventually came to understand that I could see things before they happened, and feel them as well: like the night his plane had trouble in the middle of the ocean, I never told him I had always known we wouldn't end up together.
One afternoon years later, he found me in my own world writing somewhere, and when I looked up, he was sitting across from me. When he told me he was getting married, I wasn't the least bit surprised or hurt.
I just looked at him and didn't seem shocked. So he told me she was accomplishing far more, in his opinion, than I was. I still didn't respond. I knew she was perfect for him and that he was still trying to get back at me -- never knowing what I had always known. I wished him luck; he got up and walked out and I returned to my writing.
I won contests and awards in the next few months, and we never saw each other again.
I knew that someday science would begin to explain what they questioned then: the ability we have to "see through time" -- one of our often latent gifts. This, one of many articles, is on coincidence: Quantum Physics
Book: Other Ways of Knowing
I "saw" it almost immediately when I looked over his blond hair at lush summer leaves and a "picture" in the air, vague, in the far future, but crystal clear to me. He was logical, an intellect, and repeatedly tried to discount my more "normal" objections to this relationship. So I went off with someone else.
He came to get me at the other man's place. What followed was a back and forth that lasted over time with him often angry at me, but always something deep and otherworldly between us, no matter where one of us was.
Even though he eventually came to understand that I could see things before they happened, and feel them as well: like the night his plane had trouble in the middle of the ocean, I never told him I had always known we wouldn't end up together.
One afternoon years later, he found me in my own world writing somewhere, and when I looked up, he was sitting across from me. When he told me he was getting married, I wasn't the least bit surprised or hurt.
I just looked at him and didn't seem shocked. So he told me she was accomplishing far more, in his opinion, than I was. I still didn't respond. I knew she was perfect for him and that he was still trying to get back at me -- never knowing what I had always known. I wished him luck; he got up and walked out and I returned to my writing.
I won contests and awards in the next few months, and we never saw each other again.
I knew that someday science would begin to explain what they questioned then: the ability we have to "see through time" -- one of our often latent gifts. This, one of many articles, is on coincidence: Quantum Physics
Book: Other Ways of Knowing
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