Second Sight by Judith Orloff Read Free Book Online Page B

wasn't any reason to be afraid. I felt restored, vindicated, determined never to allow this experience to slip away. Eager to go on, I opened the front door and stepped forward into the living room.
    “The house is nicely furnished but not lavish by any means. It isn't occupied,” I continued. “I hope I don't run into anyone. I don't want to intrude.” There were no signs of people, but I knew they were present. Dr. Moss didn't live alone. She had children, one or maybe two, and I had a feeling that other close relatives visited her a lot. There was a warmth, a family atmosphere. This surprised me; I guess I thought she worked all the time. It wasn't how I imagined her life to be, but I related it to her anyway, trying hard not to confuse my preconceptions with what I was actually seeing.
    It had never occurred to me previously that I could consciously direct or focus my premonitions, looking at details the way I did in real life. Usually my visions had appeared unpredictably, in a flash, giving a general overview of a situation, then vanishing. The possibility that I might be able to turn my head left or right to explore various aspects of a room, for instance, or even choose to float above it, seemed incredible. I had entered an entirely new world.
    I then found myself standing in the center of a large bedroom. “I'm now on the other side of the house but I haven't walked a single step to get there,” I told Dr. Moss, trying to convey my delight as I continued to look around. “I see a wide, double bed with a wooden headboard and a light-colored bedspread. On both sides of the bed are identical wooden tables.
    “The right one has a single drawer where you've put some notes you've written to yourself. On the wall opposite the bed are two large windows. Between them is a long dresser that stands about waist high. There's an old faded photo on the top—it looks like you with your arm around a bright-faced teenage girl. Off to the right of that wall is a closet with your clothes in it. You left the door open.”
    Now immersed in the reading, I forgot where I was. My only reality was the house, its rooms and hallways, scents and colors. All my previous concerns had been replaced by an intense curiosity to absorb each moment of this experience, as if I'd been starving for it my entire life.
    When, finally, Dr. Moss told me it was time to stop, I felt incredibly invigorated. Whatever I'd been doing seemed natural—preferable, in fact, to my ordinary life. So preferable, actually, I suddenly realized that a part of me didn't want to come back, wished I could stay there forever. I began to feel a wrenching sensation in my stomach, a sense of loss, a sadness, as though I'd been taken from my home.
    Perhaps because she sensed what I was experiencing, to reorient me Dr. Moss asked that I take a few deep breaths, begin to feel my arms, my legs, my toes, and then prepare to leave the house and return to her office. This gave me some time to catch up and get my bearings. Finally I opened my eyes and looked around. Dr. Moss sat quietly at her desk, smiling warmly. Even so, it took a few minutes to acclimate myself. It was like the lingering sensations of an extraordinary dream as you wake up, having part of yourself in both realities but being fully present in neither.
    “How did I do?” I inquired cautiously at last, scared to hear Dr. Moss's response.
    Leaning closer, she answered, “I think you did remarkably well. For the most part, your reading of my home was quite accurate.”
    Her words caught me off guard. I could hardly speak. In effect I heard her saying, “You're all right. In fact, you've always been all right. There's never been anything to worry about.” I felt liberated, light, as if I'd won a race when nobody believed in me. But no one could dispute it; I had won, even when I hadn't believed in myself.
    “You mean I'm clairvoyant?” I asked.
    “Well, that's often used as another word for ‘psychic,'”