On the Fourth of July, a neighbor told me, and everyone gathered at her house for some great food and friendship, that lightening had frightened her pretty badly the day before.  As you know, we’ve been getting floods lately.  And along with that are some pretty good lightening displays.  Me, the good psychic I am, asked how the lightening bothered her because I didn’t hear it hit around here or anything.  Duh!!!  That’s when she looked at me as if I’d just stepped off the turnip truck and I immediately understood.  Didn’t take long. More... 

The day before we’d been standing out on the sidewalk talking about the pretty clouds rolling in and I do mean rolling.  There’s been two or three tornados come within a mile and a half or a little more, but who’s counting?  Thank goodness they didn’t do any damage.  Well, anyway, Claude ambled over and started talking too.  Then the lightening started.  It was beautiful as well as it started in the sky and went to ground. 

Claude made the comment that I probably should go on into the house because, he said, “You know how you are.”

My neighbor asked what he meant.  It’s not enough to be psychic.  The neighbor wanted to know any other little idiosyncrasies about me too. 

“Well, lightening seems to find her,” he answered.  “We’ve had things get hit in our house because she’s so electrical.  Da Juana tell her about the sharks.”

Now, the neighbor is looking at me even more differently than usual, since finding out that I’m a psychic/medium.  She’s really nice though. 

I relayed how at Fair Park, that’s where our state fair is held, I put my hand in an exhibit to see whether I generate enough electricity to attract sharks.  Let’s just say that I need to stay out of the water or jaws and I will be talking.  Mine went off the charts. 

While my neighbors listening, I notice that she’s pointing a little bit, and it’s at me.  I stop to take a breath and she says that my hair is standing on end.  Then she waves her hand across her head to see if hers is.  Then she looks at Claude and his isn’t either.  She looks back at me and says, “Your hair’s standing on end.”

I didn’t wait.  I left the two of them standing there.  I could already feel the hair on my arms rising.  What’s funny is that I wasn’t worried about myself.  As I walked quickly into the garage, all I could think about was getting away from them so that they didn’t get hit or hurt.  Later I thought about my worrying about them more than myself.  That’s not normal is it?  Maybe Claude’s right.  I’m really am A B normal.

Da Juana