Psychic Families are So much Fun
From Chris Wayan's journal, 1980/7/21
This isn't a dream, okay? I'm on this weekend trip with my sister Miriel. We met at our parents' house in San Mateo and drove north to Clear Lake in my car. Volcanoes and hot springs and state parks. It's a change.
But the whole weekend, Miriel's uneasy, she can't enjoy it--she's broke and needs to look for work. Finally I ask "Do you want to head back early, go home and job-hunt?"
She pauses a long time, staring at the volcano. And says "Yes."
Five counties and two hours later, as we near our parents' home, she suddenly says "drop me off by my car, will you? It's on that dead-end court above mom and dad's house." She plans to sneak off home without talking to them. "I just have a sudden dread they're gonna grill me again on What You're Doing With Your Life..."
I have an equally strong promonition it'll do no good: my car isn't visible from the house, but our parents are unbelievably psychic (though they deny telepathy's possible of course). They'll have a sudden irrational urge to take a walk at just that moment, in this direction, with a side trip up this dead-end street on impulse...
But I dutifully turn off before reaching their house. No parents in sight down the block. I drop Miriel at her car. She hops out and starts unlocking it--and our parents walk around the corner. You can't see up the block from the front of their house, yet they had to have left for a walk the instant after I turned off. "Miriel? Chris? What are you doing here?"
And the inquisition begins.
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