![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
For ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
celebrate_women this week, the theme is "Mothers and Daughters."
My mother and I are psychic.
You think I am lying to you. You think that, even if I *think* that we are psychic, that I am mistaken. The truth is, however, that we are--just a little, tiny, infinitesimally and uselessly psychic. So is my grandmother, although we don't tell her this, because she's already neurotic enough.
I have had prophetic dreams about such useless things as places I will someday end up and particular things people will say and do. I know, I know--it sounds like deja vu all over again, but I've had that, too, and this is different.
Most recently, I appear to be able to guess the future. I predicted a very old relative's death within a couple of days, and I predicted that my permanent retainer would snap off two days before it did.
See what I mean about useless?
My clairvoyance or lack thereof isn't the point of this post, though. The point is my mother. Because when I told her years ago, half-joking, that I thought I was psychic, she said she believed me. We ended up talking about whether or not we actually believed in psychic abilities, and whether or not twins shared a special connection, and if my dad was crazy or not for thinking that all that stuff was evil. (We generally agreed that he was.)
It's one of the few geeky subjects I've been able to discuss with my mother, who is and always has been grounded in reality to a degree that none of the rest of my family is. My mother watched Star Trek because my dad did, and my brother and I grew up eating, drinking, and breathing science fiction of all kinds (except the ones my dad didn't like because they mentioned animal spirits and ghosts). So she often feels a little out of her depth when I mention anything vaguely fannish.
Nevertheless, she and I were able to connect for a little while on something completely fun, without worrying about who knew more about the subject, without worrying that either would take it too seriously. It was also one of the first times I recall being able to have a conversation with her not as my mother, but as my friend.
And that was something special.
Just don't tell Grandma.
celebrate_women this week, the theme is "Mothers and Daughters."My mother and I are psychic.
You think I am lying to you. You think that, even if I *think* that we are psychic, that I am mistaken. The truth is, however, that we are--just a little, tiny, infinitesimally and uselessly psychic. So is my grandmother, although we don't tell her this, because she's already neurotic enough.
I have had prophetic dreams about such useless things as places I will someday end up and particular things people will say and do. I know, I know--it sounds like deja vu all over again, but I've had that, too, and this is different.
Most recently, I appear to be able to guess the future. I predicted a very old relative's death within a couple of days, and I predicted that my permanent retainer would snap off two days before it did.
See what I mean about useless?
My clairvoyance or lack thereof isn't the point of this post, though. The point is my mother. Because when I told her years ago, half-joking, that I thought I was psychic, she said she believed me. We ended up talking about whether or not we actually believed in psychic abilities, and whether or not twins shared a special connection, and if my dad was crazy or not for thinking that all that stuff was evil. (We generally agreed that he was.)
It's one of the few geeky subjects I've been able to discuss with my mother, who is and always has been grounded in reality to a degree that none of the rest of my family is. My mother watched Star Trek because my dad did, and my brother and I grew up eating, drinking, and breathing science fiction of all kinds (except the ones my dad didn't like because they mentioned animal spirits and ghosts). So she often feels a little out of her depth when I mention anything vaguely fannish.
Nevertheless, she and I were able to connect for a little while on something completely fun, without worrying about who knew more about the subject, without worrying that either would take it too seriously. It was also one of the first times I recall being able to have a conversation with her not as my mother, but as my friend.
And that was something special.
Just don't tell Grandma.
