(01) Eight of Cups. A moment back in time, almost seven years ago. V and I are back on the bench. While he is unsuspecting, he continues a conversation that once happened between us. I can see his navy blue NORWAY jacket and his spiky hair so clearly. Touched, I take his hand and hope he won’t notice how cold my hands are. They always are. Through heavy lidded eyes and heavy heart, I muster the courage to thank him for speaking of his interest, but decline the possibility for us to date. His expression got all serious, he didn’t understand why I had changed my mind. As a girl who went through a roller coaster crush a couple of years later, I already knew whst would become of us. “I have seen what will happen to us. I’m sorry, but I don’t like the way you will treat me.” He seemed frustrated, and was then at a loss for words. To acknowledge it would mean he believed in the vision, and he was too proud for that.

Scene shift.
Then there was the other. He came to visit his aunt, but would not speak to me even though I lived across the street. He simply refused to make contact no matter how many times my gaze pushed for his. He simply looked away and would avoid any type of contact. I could see his visage peering out the window right back at me, and even though we were not in speaking terms, I always wave back. What happened between us was unfortunate, and the guilt he felt kept him from ever wanting to contact me again. You could see it in his eyes, this man was tortured. One day his little girl happened upon my house like a messenger. She dropped something off and returned real fast. It almost seemed as if she was scared of us. We smiled and waved but the would not look at us. Golden locks framed her face, she looked more like an angel than a human.

Scene shift.
There are tables strategically placed along a dark room. High ceilings, columns and cold atmosphere. Having a chat and a wonderful tine with none other than Ciro Marchetti and his wife, who had come to meet with other tarot enthusiasts. We talk about how we met online, then the subject changed to admiration for James Wanless. Promptly, we wave in his direction and smile. When I get to look around at who else is in the room, my eyes fall upon A and his fiancee. For a moment I lose my breath and latch onto the arm of my beloved, whispering that I don’t feel well. I hear him growl as he always does when he hears the name, then he discretely turns around for what is not really a discrete glare. J loathes A. “Not the Dark Priest again,” he growls.

Next thing I know I’m on the stage, hosting a swimsuit competition. A’s fiancee is actually his ex, S, dressed unconventionally but still really stunning. The girls strut their stuff on stage. It is easy to see the greedy eyes of men, how they hunger for the flesh and fantasize so openly. The surge of emotions could be felt all around the room. Ciro, James and A were gone, but the rest were taking off their clothes and chanting ominously. Couples began to form and what was once a formal event had just turned into a great orgy. I couldn’t move at all, overcome by shock and how everyone lost control of themselves. J came to my rescue, grabbing me by the arm and taking me with him. His hands which are usually hot felt more lukewarm, if not lifeless. I clung to him as shadows began to form and stretch like nets over those enjoying themselves. We got out just in time before the doors to the event were closed and locked.

(02) Nine of Cups. He was in pursuit but slow to follow. There were many distractions in the parking lot, but due to the structure of it, it was more convenient to drive upwards first, then spiral all the way back down. K and V tried to stop him, they tried to calm his rage but he wouldn’t listen. He wanted revenge and he didn’t care how he got it.

The bad part of being in an advantageous position is that if you are not attentive, you don’t see them coming. The good news is that you can set up traps and distractions to slow them down or shake them off.

In spirit of the situation, I found myself indebted to my friends for trying to save me. As things got more complicated, though, down the mountain path I ran. He was close behind now, his eyes lit with rage. With one clever illusory turnaround trick I was able to deter him. Reaching the end of the path felt more like reaching a super goal.

(03) Ten of Cups. Walking into a large plane while in good company. J and I scope out our seats and drop off our things, with some really pesky flight attendants pushing us here and there. Since I ended up at the bar, I decide to sit for a drink. I am poured some brüt from a clear bottle with gold filigree at the neck. It looks like a hybrid between a web and a plant, the design is quite elegant and whimsical. Sitting there with my glass, I marvel at how big the plane is. Our destination, — and yes, it’s hard not to guess right, — is Tokyo, Japan. A mother to a little boy comes up to strike up a conversation. She gives me life advice, all the while my eyes are in pursuit of the annoying waiters drifting from J to I as if we cared about what they were trying to push us to do. The buzz in my head was enough to drown them out, but otherwise it seemed that it was going to be a very long flight.

Change of scene.
I’m dancing at a club, wearing silver buckle boots  and shimmering stars in my hair. After taking a look around, it is very clear to me that it is the wrong kind of club to be dancing in. It doesn’t feel at all threatening, but it is quite crowded even for being daytime. The atmosphere is kept dark and dim while the strobe lights and ultra violet give off a certain kind of mood. This isn’t the perfect place to be, but I’m already here so it’ll make do. When the shift is over, it’s almost 6P.M. Time to go home.

On my way out, I run into the most malicious girl I have ever met. Let’s call her Marcia. She leans on her car with her arms crossed over her chest and smirks back at us. Naturally, the nasty comments start and the car feels too far for comfort. We don’t pick up the pace; we remain steady but start running the mouth. Real-life situations are reminded back and forth, with some insults to garnish them. The situation gets pretty heated when we’re almost at the car, but then I turn around that Mom’s not inside yet and Marcia pulled out a big syringe. Cue panic.

After getting in the car and slamming the door, I lock it and pull Mom into the car on the other side. I whisper that this isn’t the time to be slow, when suddenly Marcia comes up and starts trying to open the door. She unlocks it as if nothing, and that’s when the alarms start going off in my head.

Marcia forces the door open and grabs me, with one hand clenched around the base of my neck and the other around the syringe. She tries to stab it into the other side of my neck and the struggling starts. We are locked in a dangerous embrace that is both awkward and tiring. The hatred flares and the words begin doing the damage for us, but there is no way to break the embrace without taking a risk.

(04) Page of Cups. Floating through outer space, the endless vacuum from which all entities come. Passing by the point of creation, all the planets and life forms. It’s so peaceful, so quiet… or so it seems to be from so high up. Somewhere in the void, aliens are plotting to kidnap individuals that have been chasing them. They don’t want to be tracked down anymore so their solution is to terminate those who know about them. They speak with urgency and set out to find the trinity of unlucky ones. Back on Earth, a whole team assembles to protect the same trio from the alien attack. They employ the use of hi-tech weapons and a full team of professionals in the field. They work diligently and discretely.

Elsewhere, a proud mother croons over her infantile sun. She cradles him in her arms, and then douses him in a clear pool. The water ripples; the pool is an intense turquoise. All the while, I am just a watcher perched on a high place, just like the all-seeing eye. Nobody is conscious I am there, but I walk amongst them. I am invisible to them all. The attacks begin and I am the witness of how peace turns to war.

Change of scene.
Walking through a house with a studio in the back. I immediately recognize it as Noa’s studio from back in the day. She’s hosting a party for all her ex-alumni. She in turn is not as fresh or interested in hearing the progress of her students ever since they studied in class. She hears the stories with lack of enthusiasm. Her attention is turned to what a failure her life was after all this time she had tried so hard to advance her career.

Change of scene.
I accompanied Jean to work. He needed help with some cases so I volunteered to do it while he worked on the web site design of his company.  His supervisor comes by and places her hands on my forearm, flashing me a smile that made me feel uneasy. She engaged me in conversation as if we were lifelong friends; all the while I peered at Jean suspiciously. He looked at me as if he had no idea why she was being so imprudent, I I turned my attention back to her. She took the group to a projection room and sat J in the back. I didn’t realize until he maneuvered to sit close to me. I smiled at him but she just rolled her eyes. Then she came back to ask for favors and impose new tasks. The offer of friendship was too late, neither one of us could stand her.

(05) Knight of Cups. I spent all night under a full moon in pursuit of my weeping mother. It was like a zombie walk she was going in; she had no direction, she just went wherever her feet dragged her. The moonlight basked her in its ominous glow, she looked so much like a ghost it was scary. She cried so much that she dehydrated and fell asleep at a house I had not been to before in this neighborhood. There was hair all over the floor, and if you looked more closely, you would find waste. The place was full of filth and junk, making it hard to walk around. It was actually an important day and I needed sleep, so o made I little clearing and settled not far from where she was.

The sun shone through the windows and made me feel it was laughing at me after the type of night that I had. S came over to wait for R, as we always did back when we held meetings. While we waited, we burned him alive verbally. There was nothing nice that we had left to say, all that we remembered was the bitter taste in our mouths that the friendship with him left us. He arrived late and left us hanging for some girl who told him that she needed to talk to him. I think they were talking about his silly romantic problems. He had someone to accompany and stick up for him if things didn’t go his way; she had long black hair with thick silver streaks. Her skin was pale and her lips were cherry red, she was actually quite beautiful.

We got tired of waiting and I set out to remind him twice that he had already left us waiting long enough. I could tell by the look in his face that he didn’t care. The second time around that I went to remind him, I actually felt quite naked. His judgmental stares cracked my tough exterior. I had to brace myself to get over it.

When he finally came back, all he could talk about is that he had hopes to get back with K. He was blabbering, nothing that he said made any sense. In his incoherence we found him to be quite mad. Out of anger, I started yanking out his hair and he didn’t even notice. We got in the car and he drove us to his house, all the while o kept tearing out chunks of his hair. He was going roundabout, ignoring S’s questions and acting all arrogant. All he talked to us about was K and how much he wanted to get back with her.

Next thing I know, he closes a handcuff around my wrist and told me he stopped at the gate on purpose to get my face on camera. The cuffs branded into my left arm, the one I write with. He turned back with a smile and told me that I was going to jail. He didn’t put one around S, just me. Struck with the shock of the situation, all S could do was stare.

(06) Queen of Cups. You find yourself once more in a simpler time, amongst the noise of crowds in between classes. The halls of your school are filled with melancholy with every bulletin board you pass and every open locker that you get to peek into.

You fly over a group of people standing in groups at a basketball court. They all wear the same fleece uniform of dark shorts and light shirts. They weave into rows and emit a collective cry, such as athletes do while training. At the head is the coach, a lovely blonde with a whistle. When the class is over, she uses her free period time to sit down and write a letter. It reads thus,
“Dear Psychic,

I have been enamored with a man for quite some time now but am not yet sure he is a good match. Or rather, I want to know if he is the right match for me. I have been in love with him for some time, but have come to feel as if he’s not completely open with me. Sometimes I feel he keeps secrets from me for sake of not hurting me. When we met I felt him very open and charming, then as time rolled on and we got more serious, he started to withdraw into a shell that I could see but could not find a way to enter. It’s hard to be estranged from someone you love.

Any advice you could offer would be greatly appreciated.

Professor Claire”

With one deep heaving sigh, she sat back to look at her letter. Her mind wandered elsewhere, to the beautiful moments they shared. Her eyes fogged with melancholy, and you decided to leave and give her some privacy.

(07) King of Cups. Seventh grade, the school I transferred to for high school. I find myself sitting in the algebra classroom, looking over trinkets lost in time. They are all blue and can stand as family heirlooms, small for the most part. The bell rings and all the other students take back theirs, bit I can’t find the one that would be mine. I dismiss it when I realize the next class is there and they are all looking at me kind of funny. En route up the stairs, I bump into my senior year history teacher and we both fall into the abyss where an elevator should be. After we fall 2 stories, he latches onto the 2nd floor and lets me out. We laugh uncomfortably, brushing the fall off and shuffle to our classes.

Change of scene.
Elementary school k-4th is quite different to how I remember it. They introduce me to this girl I have met before in my dreams. She is a mixture of many tarot archetypes, and lady of the forest nearby. I follow suit and she introduces me to her brother. He tells me he wants to show me something and takes me on a hike to a place we can watch over the whole school and forest. We sit and laugh with the rays of the sun gently slapping our cheeks. The rest of the afternoon passes slowly.

Change of scene.
Standing in line. It looks as if I’m there to drop off a check or an important document. How time flies. Next to staff, I am the oldest one there. I watch the little kids and they are just that, but their mannerisms are those of adults. They are quite cute. One girl in particular has a book to take her back or forward in time, and any onlookers can take a gander into the time period she is in, as if through a magnifying glass. I wondered how she made it possible to allow onlookers, but it felt a lot like voyeurism. I saw an older form of herself with red curls and a frilly dress. She looked lovely.

When its my turn i realized he is not the same desk guy as last time i visited this place in dream. He tries to give me directions but honestly doesn’t know how. We laugh at how silly the situation is and exchange some good-natured remarks.

I have gotten used to placing a tarot card under my pillow every night. It's very nice, and it'll be even nicer to take on the big boys next. The Major Arcana cards, of course. The next 22 days are going to be interesting for sure.

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