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See, over a year ago, I went to California to visit some friends from college. I couldn't afford the trip, but I really needed a vacation. One afternoon they took me to Venice Beach. Being there made me want to do something outrageous and that outrageous something was the ancient art of hand-analysis.
My fortune teller was a one-armed man sitting at a foldaway table. He wore a pair of jeweler's glasses that made him look like he took his job very seriously. When he examined my palms, the first thing he said was, "Whatta ya know, another psychic!"
I asked him what he meant and this sidewalk witch doctor explained that my extrasensory perception of future events was the reason I have strong feelings of deja vu. He said my precognitive ability came from my father's side of the family.
He told me my second sight was the reason I have dreams that come true.
I thanked him and paid closer attention to what happened when I was asleep.
Every night I visited horrible, vivid places where reality and deception merged. I was both alive and dead, suspended in a terrifying vision.
Trapped. NEXT
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