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THE DANGER OF PRECOGNITION: when a nightmare becomes real

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I’ve always wished I possessed extrasensory perception. I was particularly keen to have telepathy or teleportation, to read people’s minds or instantaneously transport myself across miles. Alas, this was not to be, despite hours wasted focusing with all my might, eyes clenched closed, on the feat.

I recently realized, however, that I may have experienced precognition all unaware. Because the incident happened years ago when I was a child, and fulfillment of its prediction didn’t occur until recently, I failed to recognize the episode for what it was.

When I was about thirteen, I had a particularly vivid dream. In it I was sitting in the driver’s seat of a car next to another person. We weren’t driving, not surprising since at the time I didn’t know how to. We could see through the windshield, however, and the sight amazed and terrified us. While inside the vehicle we couldn’t move, experiencing a paralysis, outside the world continued to function. In fact we were passing through time, years, and the landscape flashed by in fast-motion. We sat frozen as we saw empty prairies become layered with streets, then housing developments, then business buildings, finally skyscrapers reaching up to the heavens. A sense of horror, terror, seized me. More than anything, I wanted to break loose of my immobility to escape.

There was no resolution to the dream. I woke and retained the general impression for years. In fact it inspired in a convoluted way a still-to-be-published novel.

More than that, it laid the groundwork for a continuing nightmare in my mind, one that appears to be taking shape in my hometown and nearly everywhere across the nation. With what appears to be a great deal of pride, the Denver Post reports Denver’s City Council is set to approve planning for huge development smack in the middle of what now is an amusement park and a sports arena.  A massive tsunami of thousands of people to live and work there, crowding our streets, putting pressure on urban design which even now resembles solid blocks of ugly, depressing architecture.

I fear in the not-too-distant future, the entire country will resemble the horrendous developments of southern California and the megalopolis of the East Coast. This is no way for humans to live, not if they wish to encourage decent relationships and positive lifestyles for all. Surely no one, not even the perpetrators of the rude, violent, threatening behavior that accompanies modern conditions, would willingly accept this horror. If you’ve ever been on a New York subway in rush hour or in front of the Colorado state capitol where a park has been laid waste by trash, human excrement, foul language and behavior, you know what I mean. In our mad rush to equate constant growth with “progress,” we’re laying waste to ourselves, our culture.

Somehow all those years ago, my unconscious must have received the information about the impending tragedy. So I obtained my goal of achieving precognition, to my sorrow.

Car Troubles and Angels

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I have trouble in cars. The nine wrecks I had in one year as I tooled around Houston qualifies me as a road disaster. Sarah, my haphazard angel (in the book series), causes trouble in vehicles. She has accidents in red high heels too. She often tumbles into someone, knocks them down and falls on top of them.

Not all car disasters have been my fault. Houston has other crazy, inept drivers besides me.

These days, I drive a red car. In fact, my last two cars have been red. If another one is in my future, it will be red too. Why? Not because the color attracts the police, but because others can easily see me. I have no desire to own a gray color. Steely colors blend with the road. If you can’t see me coming, you can’t get out of the way.

However, speeding in a red car does gain a patrolman’s attention. I once was going about 95 on Texas Highway 6, speeding to meet a friend for lunch. I was late, as usual, and even though I’d been there many times, I didn’t remember how to get to the spot. Like Sarah, the scatterbrained, dyslexic angel I write about, I have no sense of direction, and it makes no difference if I’ve been to a location before.

The nice patrolman pulled me over. After the identities, he asked why I was in a hurry.

“Well, officer, it’s like this, I always drive fast when I don’t know where I’m going. I have to hurry up because I’m so lost. Going faster means I have a better chance of finding my destination before time runs out.”

He scratched his head and smiled. “What are you trying to find?”

After I told him, he said the place was up the road and if I traveled the speed limit, I’d get there in ten minutes. He was super nice. I drove slowly away with a warning instead of a ticket.

Sometimes, I’m totally innocent. Like the day I went to court.I was called for jury duty and left early enough to wander about Houston’s freeways. The bizarre experience that followed was my red car’s fault, not mine.I arrived at the court annex, parked, gathered my purse and grasped the door handle to get out. Oops! No way!The lever was broken. I was trapped!

I decided to crawl over the console to exit on the passenger side. Oh, my goodness! People were walking around and would see me.Should I go feet first? Bottom first? Those small car spaces aren’t made for tall people. I finally made it out. Plenty of people inside the courthouse were on their way to jail. I didn’t tell them how I escaped confinement. It’s my secret.

In my humorous, Sarah books, some of the episodes are based on my life experiences. Sarah is a dyslexic angel who comes to earth to help humans find romance. In Sarah: Laney’s Angel, Sarah, masquerading as a bride, is dressed in a wedding dress and veil. She doesn’t know how to drive, but she’s in a car. She accidentally thrusts the thing into reverse and totals the hero’s car as he sits behind her in his expensive sports vehicle. She tells him she was on the way to her wedding. Being the kind, Texas guy that he is, he offers to take her to the church. As they ride along, he discovers Sarah doesn’t know where the church is. Oh my. I enjoyed writing that scene. Stuff happens in Sarah’s adventures. Count on it.

A new Sarah book comes out in July 2018.  Sarah must help a young woman lose weight and gain confidence. She also must find a mate for the lady. Just wait till you read her adventures in the gym.

All the Sarah books are set in Texas.My Sarah Series has ten books, but two books have three stories in them. Novellas were combined into a print selection. In Sarah and Three Times a Charm, or Sarah and a Family Affair, you receive several stories.

I’ve written two serious books. The latest is Mattie’s Choice. It’s historical, Christian, women’s fiction, loosely based on family experiences, and helps the reader consider attitudes and social mores. My mother-in-law was married to a demanding man who refused to let her see her family. Research shows that controlling men do this, even today. In 1925, women had few choices, but more are available today. Women can choose not to live in an abusive household. There’s humor in the book, but there’s also a lot about faith, or the lack of it.Clue into Kindness is a contemporary novella with a similar theme.

Want to know more about my books? Here you go. http://amzn.to/2hwc6nB and http://gaynlewis.blogspot.com/

 

(Guest blogger Gay N. Lewis, a Texas minister’s wife, writes about angels and romance. She and her husband primarily have served churches in Texas. Before becoming a full time author, her livelihood embraced interior design, photography, and communication.)

 

 

 

 

 

New Book Coming Out!

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ebook cover no author tagCover reveal–new book coming out in just over a week! “Falling Like a Rock.” Unloved and unemployed. That’s Elaine Svoboda, after she’s sacked, then flees across country to her boyfriend who drops her flat. Teetering on the abyss of disaster, she calls an old friend who invites her to a tiny mountain town with fresh prospects. There she meets rugged, hunky Joe Richter-Leon, mayor of Falling Rock. From there, a woman gambles all, including her life, when she’s “falling like a rock.”

New Author Facebook Page

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New author’s Facebook page to keep people posted about developments in my writing. Go to http://www.Facebook.com/authorBonnieMcCune to “like” the page. Or click the Facebook logo on upper right corner, this page. And forward to interested parties, too, if you would.

Raise an Eyebrow–If You Can

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eyebrowThe human face owes its expressiveness to muscles and features. Eyebrows certainly have their share in the mix. Raising one or two eyebrows can indicate surprise, shock, superiority, doubt or disapproval. Some people can raise a single eyebrow, and this skill allows them to increase both the strength and range of emotions. A prime example of the use of eyebrows is Mr. Spock on Star Trek, who was indeed played by a human actor although he was supposed to be an alien. He often accompanied his raised eyebrow(s) with the label “fascinating.”

Somehow we always seem to be able to assign the correct interpretation to the eyebrows’ action. But all these abilities depend upon having eyebrows to raise. I’ve lost most of mine due to a little-known side effect of menopause, which not all women get. On the plus side, I’ve also lost most of the hair all over my body (except my head, thankfully). But losing my eyebrows isn’t a picnic because I haven’t been able to find a suitable replacement.

I know I’m dwelling on a relatively minor drawback to my overall appearance. I placidly accepted my aging face and figured eyebrows aren’t that important. After all, my mother-in-law didn’t have any, having been a vigorous plucker in her youth; and. I have friends who are losing theirs.

Then one day an eight-year-old girl was looking at me and my older sister. She decided I was older than my sister, partly because I have gray hair, while my sister tints hers. But also because, “You don’t have any eyebrows.”

Well! If eyebrows make a difference to a child, I figured I’d better start drawing some on. So began my quest for eyebrow color. Brown, black, blonde, taupe, applied with hard pencil, soft pencil, eyeshadow powder, smeared with a tiny brush, blotted with a tissue, tapped with my pinky finger. Arched, drawn at a straight slant, thick, thin, blended colors. Nothing looked natural. I finally decided the fault lies in the hue. Makeup experts evidently figure all women want dark brows, for that’s all they sell.

To me, dark eyebrows look threatening. They certainly overwhelm the rest of my face. I don’t want to scare children with a glowering dense substitute for regular eyebrows on my forehead. But I DO need eyebrows. After all, how else can I condescend to snippy eight-year-olds? So now I’m waiting patiently for someone to create eyebrow pencils in a range of grays to match the rest of my hair.