Psychic Friends Network
I have recurring dreams in which I'm sitting and chatting with God, who usually takes the form of Jenna Jameson. We always talk about "catharsis," a rebirth, or moment so compelling that all past pretenses break and life changes course. I'm so obsessed with catharsis I wrote a book about it appropriately titled Cathartic Mark. In one of these dreams Jenna continually says to me, "Take the runes, Bunny." Aside from being the best Led Zeppelin album, I wasn't really sure what "runes" were, but I wasn't about to tell anyone about my Jenna Jameson as the Holy Ghost dreams so that I could find out. I mean what would people think if I told them God fucked me with a strapon last night?

Then a package arrived at my house from my new friend. Inside of it were some lovely soaps, a velvety bag full of stones and a necklace with a red shell and some sort of symbol painted onto it. The stones were runes. The symbol on the necklace is norse for "catharsis."

So when she called last week and told me that she needed to give me "messages," I listened intently. She gave me a reading, the best reading I've ever had actually. I'm a total believer, so it is seldom that I meet a psychic who is so dead-on that I have to stop and ask "Did someone put you up to this? How the hell could you know this?"

We started talking about what it feels like to be young and have ability. You feel like you're going insane, and you're always afraid of empty or quiet rooms for the flashes of nebulous shit buzzing around you. You never feel truly alone. There is whispering in your ear and you can't tell anyone about it. You never have control over the energy around you and no one else even knows its there, and when you slip into sleep its with white knuckles and sweat because the things you see on that plane between your eyes and the rest of the world are getting clearer every day. But like any fear, with age it dissipates.

Each year I get more comfortable with saying whatever comes to mind. I predict divorces, marriages, babies and jobs. I listen to dead people rant about how they were buried, and how much they worry about their living kin. I know when married men hit on me. I know the names of their children and how old they are. And when I meet someone for the first time, I never know if they are good or bad, but I know what makes them cry.

The Rabbit Hole
All my life I've felt as if I were standing at the top of a bridge with a bungee cord attached to my ankles staring into a cavernous hole. No one had gone before me, and no one was there to push me; I felt terrified to let get on my own. I think meeting my new psychic friend may have coaxed me down the rabbit hole.

Recently, I was feeling particularly frightened. This is normal. It was late at night, and Tucker and I were lying in his bed quietly fighting about something I can't even remember. I was staring over his side at his computer; its screen saver was glowing blue.

I saw something on that plane between my eyes and the room. Instead of doing what I always do, pulling the blankets over my head, I just kept staring. There was a young girl sitting on that plane, and when I blinked, she wasn't on that plane anymore. She was just in the world, the fucking real world and I could see her plain as day.

She had long dark hair and pallid skin, and was sitting in Tucker's computer chair and grimacing at the screen. I knew that she was about sixteen and had committed suicide sometime during the seventies. She was very bitter.

"Tucker."
"Yeah."
"There is a girl in your chair."
[looks over shoulder] "No there isn't."
"Yes there is. There is a girl in your chair I can see her."
"What, like a ghost?"
"No. Not like a ghost. I can SEE her."
[looks again] "What's she doing? Surfing the net?"
"No. She's really angry Tucker. She killed herself."
[looks again, then says LOUDLY] "There's no angry bitch in my chair."

With that the girl turned and rose, and with the most angry expression on her face, she launched herself at Tucker. Tucker flinched. His skin got cold and goosebumps rose, and he asked, "What the fuck was that?"

A Solution
The next day I did some research. I'm not a witch or a wicca, and I don't burn candles or have ceremonies. I know very little about this kind of thing. However, I figured that if you've gone over the side of the bridge, and you can actually SEE dead people, you might as well keep moving down the rabbit hole.

I learned that by asking a spirit to "go to the light" (no joke, there really is a 'light') you can hel p them move on.

So one night while Tucker was out debauching, I went to his room and told this girl that she needed to "go to the light." I kept saying it and thinking it. Nothing happened, so I got ready for bed.

As soon as my head hit the pillow my eyes were filled with the most beautiful warm light, not the white light you always expected "the light" to be, but more like intense sunshine. I bet you could get a killer tan in heaven.

A profile formed. It was the girl with long dark hair, and she was smiling and walking away. She looked over her shoulder at me, pulled a piece of hair behind her ear and said, "I just wanted to thank you. My name is Beth by the way." And then she was gone. I haven't been frightened since.

Look out world. Tucker is indestructible and I've seen the light.