I Have Never Been to Paris…But My Money Has

I sometimes believe I have psychic abilities.  I suspect that many who are reading this right now are thinking I’m delusional or a little crazy- psycho, perhaps, rather than psychic.  Think what you will but I have concrete reasons to support this strange phenomenon.  I even applied for a part time job once as a psychic on the Psychic Hotline. 

It was the summer I had broken my foot and was unable to work at a sleep-away camp as a drama director as I had planned.  I felt I needed to do something interesting to add to my repertoire, so why not be a part-time phone psychic?  I saw the advertisement for it in the local newspaper.  The interview was on the phone, naturally, and after I answered some questions, the lady on the other end said, “When can you start?”  When I went to pick up all the materials for the position, which consisted of a script and Tarot cards, it started to arouse my suspicions.  The instructions were to follow the script as closely as possible while trying to keep the other party on the phone as long as possible.  She never told me what exactly to do with the Tarot cards except that the directions were on the box and I should use them at my discretion.  I never went through with it; I discarded the script, which was definitely unscrupulous, but I did keep the Tarot cards.  Although, I ended up putting the cards away after they unnerved me when I used them a few times and they forecasted unfavorable things that did ultimately come true, mostly related to my abysmal financial situation at the time.  I thought that I might have awoken an innate ability of supernatural powers, which scared me half to death.  Eventually, I threw the Tarot cards out too.   

Even though I have disposed of the Tarot cards and renounced any dabbling in the telepathic world, my subconscious defies my intentions.  This occurs when I dream.  There have been several occasions where my dreams foretell the future.  Kimberly, my second born, was handed to me in a dream the night I believe she was conceived.  I remember distinctly her coloring and features.  Nine months later, that same dark haired baby girl I gave birth to was exactly the one I met in that dream.  And I dreamt of a baby girl, kicking her feet, whom I knew was Lindsay and Scott’s daughter to be before they  even told me Lindsay was pregnant.  There have been other times, but because I refuse to partake in the metaphysical, I promptly forget them.  But what happened this past Friday is too eerie to forego.  Especially, since Friday was March 15^th- synonymous with the Ides of March, a day of forewarning.

It was in the morning, when I had fallen back to sleep.  In the dream I was in Paris, France.  My friend, Michelle, was with me.  I don’t know why Michelle was with me, possibly because I happened to bump into her and her husband, Mitch, last week at the mall.  My father, who’s been dead for over five years, was there, as well, although I couldn’t see him- I only “felt” his presence.  I remember being in a large, beautiful house with many stairs.  A person told me if I wanted to rent a room in this house it was $800 a night.  I said that was too much.  The person told me there was a car outside I could take to go look for a room.  I was hesitant to drive because I don’t know how to speak French.  There was a couple I noticed in the dream.  The man was in a wheelchair and the woman couldn’t walk too well, either.  I helped them go down the huge staircase.  That was the dream.  It could have gone on, but, Sonny, my dog, woke me.

After I took Sonny out and fed him, I decided to check my bank account because this Friday was payday.   Then I decided to check my expense bank account because my American Express bill was due.  This is when I slowly realized that my psychic powers had emerged, once again.  My account was in the negative- and there was a pending transaction of an ATM withdrawal for $651.54.  I looked at the amount, stunned, knowing I have not used this card in weeks.  Then I looked at the description and was dumbfounded when I saw that the transaction occurred in Paris, France.  Yes. Paris, France.  Where I had just been in my dream. 

I quickly called the bank and explained to the customer service representative that I was sure I had a fraudulent bank withdrawal.  She looked it up and confirmed that it was Paris France.  I told her my dream.  She was amazed.  I didn’t tell her the rest of my psychic history, but I certainly thought of it myself. 

It is Sunday now and I’m still trying to figure out this enigma of my dream of Paris.  My father being in the dream might have been the warning to check my money because he was always worried about money.  Add that to the fact that the cost of the room to rent was also blatant that money was an issue.  I do not know what helping the physically challenged couple down the stairs means.  I have looked up what stairs in dreams means and it says that going down a flight of stairs means you are regressing back into your subconscious. It also refers to the setbacks that you are experiencing in your life.  That could be related to when I first dared to flirt with clairvoyance when my foot was broken.  Who knows?

I have tried to connect this somehow to my grandma journey- for example,

Will the baby’s name be of French origin?

Or…

Will she study in Paris, France one day?

Or better yet…

Will I take my granddaughter to Paris, France one day?

Or..

Should I be called the French nickname for Grandma- Mamie or Meme?- I kind of like that.

I do not know.  All I do know right now is that my petite fille (granddaughter in French) is coup de pieds (kicking a lot). (Thank you Google translator and my cousin Andrea who's been to Paris and speaks some French.)  I witnessed another sonogram and the technician kept remarking how active she is, just like the baby in my dream.  I met the new ob-gyn on Wednesday.  He’s very nice and he calls everyone “Honey”. 

What I also know is that I have never been to Paris, but my money has….

 Au revoir.