Educated Psychic: Medea, Psychic Exotic Dancer

I followed the sounds of finger cymbals and belly dance music that sounded more like old-fashioned American blues than Greek or Middle-Eastern rhythms. It was exotic, and erotic, nonetheless. I envisioned a turbaned snake charmer with flute and cobra. But when I pushed through double saloon-style doors, I saw Medea, her stage name, twisting and writhing up on stage. Dressed scantily in black, hair long and dark, I could almost smell her sweet sweat and perfume. I was on “The Block” of Baltimore that featured the old black blues music, drums, sax and horns, and places that featured exotic dancers such as Blaze Starr and Candy Barr. And the psychic, as it turned out, Medea.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Medea! Sitting up at the bar sipping a drink, she did not appear to notice. She seemed the perfect woman. I was enthralled. After all, the ancient Media was a sorceress.  When she finished after a long while, and after changing to another scanty frock, also black, in her dressing room, she walked directly to me and sat down. As we talked it was as if resuming an earlier conversation. We’d never met. Not in the current lifetime. But yet we seemed to know each other well. We were sympatico, we were en rapport, we were psychically linked. With my last money, I bought her an expensive lady’s drink.

I was forty miles away from where I was writer-in-residence at Western Maryland College, and I’d traveled in my junky old VW lemon-yellow bus. Of a sudden Medea’s head jerked back and she said, “You’re going to need some money tonight”. “No, I’ll be alright,” I replied. “No,” she insisted, walked rapidly back to her dressing room and gave me three dollars when she returned. I thought, that’s not money. That’s only three lousy bucks. But, as it turned out, it was just enough. Her impression had been distinctly psychic, and accurate.

She wouldn’t let me accompany her home to her hotel. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I cannot involve you in my kind of life.” She seemed both lonely and sad. “I will come again,” I said. She only smiled a smile that spoke regret. The clubs closed up and when I got in my old VW bus I saw that I was out of gas. No problem, I thought. But, turned out I’d already pulled up my auxiliary tank. I used one of psychic Medea’s dollars to take a taxi to get one dollar’s worth of gas. On the way home I had to stop and get another dollar’s worth in order to make it. “You are going to need money tonight,” the gorgeous psychic exotic dancer had said, and she was right. That was more than twenty years before my spiritual transformation that led to my work as a psychic consultant and healing channel.

Richard Lee Van Der Voort, M.A. Please see my website that includes books, blogs and psychic services at http://psychicconsultingbyemail.com. For more information about psychic readings my e-mail my address is psychicmind.vandervoort231@gmail.com