Member-only story
The Line Between Truth & Fiction — Motivated by Fear pg175
Colorful companion to my memoir The Incompetent Psychic
I was blasted with a vision transmission more clearly focused than any before or since. I wasn’t in Bett’s lavender scented living room. I was somewhere in the near future. I was behind my steering wheel, driving my little red truck in thick morning mist along the marina road. A boy on a bicycle appeared right in front too fast to brake. Swerve. Thump. I came out of it with a violent gasp, grasping this scene in terrible clarity. I was going to take out the paper boy on a foggy morning. My liver no longer processed binges effectively, so the customary hangover would be bad enough to impair awareness. Thanks to that same red-lined liver, I would have a blood alcohol level high enough to make this manslaughter. Child slaughter. I was shaking and couldn’t catch my breath.
I looked straight at Bett. “I’m going to quit drinking.” — From Chapter 9
My cosmic message reception function is pretty haphazard (hence the title of this book). I’ve searched for helpful user manuals for my brain and questioned mental health care professionals who have crossed my path. I’ve waded in the ocean of more esoteric theories. I honestly don’t know if I have enough knowledge to even make me dangerous. Probably not. From what…
