Fortunes

“Pareidolia” is seeing human physical characteristics in nature. It derives from the Greek words “para,” meaning “beside,” and “eidolon,” meaning “image” or “form.”

I couldn’t help but see a celestial face staring down at me from the sheet lightning as I watched, galvanized – the hair on my arms statically dancing – at the cool and silent lightshow appearing along the western horizon when I was letting the Beagle Brothers out for their last piss before I hit the sack.

But then again, it had been that kind of cool day. 

(Tell me you don’t see the dark brows, cheeks and nose with those fulminating eyes flashing down at me.)

Earlier that day, I had taken care of my Sunday chores early enough to make a second run at attending the Psychic Fair at the Boulder County Fair Grounds that I had missed Saturday. Lisa again turned down my morning offer to come along, but I felt the urge to make the twenty minute trip to Longmont, because collective mystical events of this caliber don’t often occur so close to Casa Claire.

Well, I arrived just after the noon opening, and stood in line with the others, looking for a ticket counter inside the entrance.

Now, first let me mention that I felt terribly underdressed, as most attendees were out in full goth regalia. Like a cosplay event. The predominant demographic were healthy young women mostly dressed in clingy black silk and fishnet that exposed their porcelain white skin on abs, thighs and cleavage that was further accessorized by the coolest tattoos, lots of silver studs in the most interesting places and Elvin faces with the darkest black, red or purple hair, eyeliners, lashes and lipstick as exclamation points.

Most of the women manning the booths also rocked the look, confidently.

Like Ash,

or Hex.

Not a big surprise given the motto that seemed to capture the gathering.

Did I mention my childhood crush on Morticia Addams and Lily Munster.

Freud would probably find some interesting connections to my present dalliances with the occult. That is, if the Irish were not impervious to psychoanalysis.

There were a sprinkling of trans women doing their best to fit in among this mega herd of Shakespeare’s Weird Sisters – https://www.google.com/search?q=Shakespeares+sisters+witches&rlz=1C1SQJL_enUS895US895&oq=Shakespeares+sisters+witches&gs_lcrp=EgZjaHJvbWUyBggAEEUYOTIJCAEQIRgKGKAB0gEKMTMxNDJqMGoxNagCDLACAfEFhF5mowhh8ec&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:58cb84e6,vid:H9m-yOmJbJM,st:0. While I may have been out of the shoppers market for many decades, having successfully landed a beautiful Wallen Witch when I still had the youthful goods to do so, these often attractive GMO couldn’t fool this well trained eye. Still, they were all congenial in their interactions, fully accepted among their peers and very happy in their skins as they milled about in friendly groups from table to table to table. I was happy for their happiness.

Those remaining women, of all ages mind you, who opted out of the gothic look, were often blond, tan, fit and clad in daisy dukes and tank tops. They rocked them with confidence. Well done.

There were some leather clad biker dudes, a couple of bad ass Viking looking guys and some kilt donning Celts dispersed among the crowd. All in small enough numbers to really stand out.

Most of the men at the event looked relatively low-T, flamboyantly gay, or at least Q. I was definitely among a male hetero minority.

On a purely aesthetic level, the moving visual was a win-win for this observer. Great energy from this crowd.

But I almost wasn’t admitted to this magical, mystical, moveable feast.

As I patiently made my way on line through the doors into the shadows of the Coliseum Building I did not see a ticket booth anywhere. When I finally made my way to the front of the line, the very official uniformed security guard informed me that there were no tickets for sale at the door.

Given that my attendance was on a whim, I didn’t even allow my lawyer persona to try and argue my way in. I mean, I could have ended on the wrong end of a lifetime curse. So, I accepted my fate and was about to turn to leave when I heard a lovely young voice from behind me call out, “I have an extra ticket! It’s yours if you want it.”

I turned around and was met with a charming smile from a lovely young lady named Kat Smith.

Who happened to have an extra ticket due to a last minute cancellation by one of her friends. She offered it to me gratis, but the gentleman in me required I pay her for her kindness.

Turns out, Kat and I share an interest in reading and writing Fantasy. So we exchanged contact information and I offered her a curbside writing tutorial. We will remain in touch and I hope to swing by as a guest to her writers group in the near future. Thank you Kat. You rock.

And that wasn’t the only stroke of luck I had at the Psychic Fair.

Once inside I made my rounds checking out the many very cool and often hand made items that any Druid would covet. There were also many Tarot readers, which I must confess, falls within the triggers to my addictive personality, but since these women – mostly female – deserve to make a living – a reading can be expensive.

However, this one table drew me in. It was manned by a mother and daughter team – Amy Norman-Foster the Mom Tarot Reader and her equally beautiful mystical crafts woman and carnival barker daughter Josephine –

Amy

her card –

And her magnetic daughter, Josie

Well, Josie was fully engaged with a small cluster of goths who were considering whether to take her up on her $3.00 a spin offer that could provide a listing of possible gifts, including a selection from the cool set of mystical crafts on her table. But one spot on the wheel of fortune offered a three card Tarot reading by her mom.

So I stepped up, cut the line in pure New Yawker fashion, and lay that money down before the Goths could reach a collective decision. Josie smiled enchantingly and spun the wheel. Buzzzzzz, click, click. click . . . . and finally, that coveted three card reading crossed the flapper and locked in.

Bingo.

So, I sat across from the mesmerizing mother and split the deck twice into three piles, and left Amy to amaze me.

She asked if I had a particular question I needed an answer to. I hesitated, but then spouted, like Ralphie to Santa,

“Movie Deal!”

She randomly dealt out three cards and then regaled me with interesting insights, which on their own were positive enough in suggestions for desired success. The cards told me it was time to “leave the old chapter behind” and to take risks because I have amassed “all I need to make it happen.” I would have happily accepted the reading as is, given the extreme discount and pleasant ambiance, and was about to exit my chair when Amy asked me to pick up the deck and select a fourth card at random. This was completely unexpected – indeed, she said she was compelled to go the extra yard – and above and beyond the prize I had won, but such was my luck yesterday.

I let my fingers blindly guide me and randomly flipped over the 9 of Cups.

As AI explains better than I:

“The Nine of Cups in tarot is often called the “wish card” and generally signifies fulfillment, contentment, and emotional satisfaction. It can indicate that your desires are coming to fruition and that you are in a state of happiness and abundance.”

Or, as Amy said when she read the four cards in tandem,

Taadaa, yes, wish fulfilled.

Claire, pack a suit case, your going to Hollywood.

Of course, as I mentioned in the beginning, yesterday ended with a satisfying electric flourish. The Old Man in the sky – with fire in his eyes – looking down with omnipotent approval.

Well, before anything else can happen I need to address my Monday, which means some Casa Claire chores and then legal work.

But tucked in the back of my mind as I finish up this blog is that bit of positive hope shared by Amy and all of the other prognosticators during gatherings like yesterday – like when my Mom used to tell me “keep smiling – you got this” whenever I headed out the door of my family home – that the magical literary series The Claire Saga has even higher mountains to climb as it continues to spread in various forms to entertain the masses.

And you, my fine, five readers, have helped me continue along this path. You continue to tune in and listen to my stories. Thank you for that.

So let’s all get out there and make today a great one.