If only my sixth sense was reliable...
I've worked through enough coincidences, deja vus, and "how the hell's..." to consider myself a little psychic. When I smell Half Mile Road, my Nanie's old house, I know it's time to ask about her to my folks again. Once in college, I had this wave of feeling hit me, enough for me to call my folks right there at work and confirm that everything was ok. It was. I got back to the dorm that night and found out that my best friend (at the time) Brian had been in a car accident that afternoon.
So I'm sitting here at work, and I think I may have had a visit from somebody. Out of the blue, it's as though someone else breathes out through my mouth. The taste is slightly different, and it floods me with that "someone's walking over my grave" feeling. It feels like Nanie, and I pray it's not, even though that same apprehension is coupled with a "this is ok" feeling. Like she's close to being between worlds or something. She turns 95 next month, so I certainly wouldn't fault her for taking a dip into the netherworld here and there as she gets closer to it; I'm just selfish and not ready to give her up.
Hair on the back of your neck standing up? Yeah, mine too.
I resisted the urge to email Mom and Meara. It's probably nothing, why worry anybody? My system's low on Paxil at present, could be my brain playing tricks on me. That's rationalizing though; it felt too real. I'll definitely meditate tonight to try and trance myself to a level of exploring what happened a shade deeper.
And then I'll rip out my pink and blue projects, because I keep forgetting that Wool Ease sucks for knitting lace; gotta buy me some real yarn, like from Knit Picks. Is it pay day yet?