Psychic Powers

I want, above all, to have psychic powers. As a matter of fact, I’m convinced that I do, or that I’m on the verge of having them.

Think about it: mind control, reading people’s thoughts. Psychics, like Jean Grey from the X-Men, are able to see through situations all around them, piercing the veil and uncovering a deeper facet of reality. They are prescient. They’re conscious.

Even the crazier powers are just an extension of innate capacities we already possess, everyday skills and modes of perception exaggerated to cartoon-like extremes. Telekinesis blurs the distinction between subject and object as the psychic merges with the object of his attention. The bent spoon is an extension of his will. The intention is so clear in his mind, so powerful, that it becomes its own entity, efficacious, and leaps through empty space.

Pyrogenesis is biofeedback; it is isolation and awareness of one’s own vitality. Temperature increases. Rage boils over, a fire lights in the eyes, and a gigantic fireball emanates from the subject, consuming his enemies. This is again manifestation of the internal, though in a more emotional way.

Keep in mind, MONKS CAN ACTUALLY DO THIS. Real fuckin’ life.

When I was younger, I used to show off my psychic powers: I would inform any onlookers of my intention, strike a pose and glare at a something across the room, then make noises and wiggle my fingers, beckoning, until my sister got up and brought it to me.

Psychic powers are just mortality squared, things we actually do run through the wringer of exponential growth—nuggets of potentiality compressed & concentrated, like espresso.

When a dream of mine becomes lucid, I usually develop psychic powers. The other night a rowdy gang chased me around my hometown, but when I decided to bring the fight to them, they became afraid. That bought some time, and I fled again. I tried to jump over a river. I fell short, but didn’t fall in—visualizing my feet, I skated across the river, sliding across it like ice. Another time, fighting a doppelganger of mine, I realized I was ontologically superior to him in every possible way, and in a vast explosion of energy I obliterated the warehouse around me.

Psychic powers are real, I swear—I’ve got them, I’m almost there. You would be too if you weren’t so busy convincing yourself you were normal.

This entry was posted in Fiction/Creative, Snippets and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Psychic Powers

  1. adamcmadison says:

    Ontologically superior, hahaha.

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