I am psychic. I just am. You are too - some of us have more of a talent for it than others. Reading the subtle energies is an art. It takes practice, practice, practice. But even then sometimes we are so far off the mark, it's kind of funny - not that I keep score, by the way.
When I was beginning my studies in the Art, one day as I meditated I was suddenly struck by an urge to buy a yo-yo. I was learning to follow my intuition (as long as my urges were not destructive). There's no harm in a yo-yo, so I set out to get one. It was during a time when I guess yo-yo's were not popular. I had to hunt that sucker down. At last I found a store that carried them. At last I had my yo-yo. I sat with it, trying to divine its wisdom, partake of its great lessons, but I couldn't get a thing out of it. Finally in frustration I gave up, put it in a drawer and never thought of it again. But I found out subsequently that the day I hunted for a yo-yo was National Yo-Yo Day.
OK, I was tuned in to a wavelength, but was it necessary to know it was National Yo-Yo Day? You tell me. I would prefer to receive information that would save the planet or at least give me a hand up. But it seems this is not my talent. I can see energetic disruptions in clients, I can talk to the Cloud People and ghosts, I can dance with the planets but I never play the lotto because I know I could not perceive the correct numbers even if I stared into my crystal ball till my face turned blue and my eyeballs fell out. It is not my talent. When I mention to my spirit guides that it would be cool to win the lottery, they tell me it would be boring and destructive. Hmmm.
I mention this odd knack for divining completely irrelevant information because last night I asked for a dream to help illuminate something I'm working on with a friend. I dreamed that an exhibit of presidential underwear opened at the American History museum. All I remember in the dream was looking at the heavy, scratchy wool long johns George Washington wore during the famous crossing of the Delaware River. You know the painting? Ha.
Funny dream. Of course this is exactly what we do when we vet our elected officials. We poke around inside their underwear drawers to see what we can find hidden there.
But here's the thing. All day today I've been getting flashes of presidential underwear. Seriously, do I have to know this? TMI, y'all, T.M.I.