my 'psychic' ability is something more akin to a super-deep intuition. I feel it's like Christopher Walkin in The Dead Zone. Except instead of a handshake it tends to be a few conversations.

After a few conversations I start to piece together way more of their life, their emotions, their outlook than I can possibly stand. I feel terrifically aware of the other person, almost like I am inside of their life. It creeps me out and frankly I avoid letting myself go down that direction when I meet people (I find I can let it happen or try to ignore it).

As for your dream, it seems rather literal. Dream analysis is a difficult art even under the best of circumstances.

From when I was 19 to about 25 or so, when freaky paranormal-type stuff happened to me in intense bursts, much of which I've forgotten.  By "intense bursts" I mean on the order of a few times a week, for a few weeks at a time. (I think I wrote up a bunch of these experiences on K5 long ago, but am  too lazy to look them up now.) Meanwhile, here are two "frinstances".

1. I woke up one morning with a tune in my head. Very powerful. In fact, it was so powerful that I got out my guitar and figured out how to play it. I thought I had just written a great little bit of music in a dream, & I was quite proud of myself.  Then I made coffee, had shower, etc. Then I turned on radio (the Purdue University NPR station). My tune came on: Samuel Barber's "Adagio for strings", which I had no recollection of ever having heard, ever.   Now of course it's possible that I had heard the music at some point in my life, and that the night before, when I went to bed, they had announced that they would be playing it in the morning, and so I had dreamed about it, etc. But that's not what I think happened. I think I just picked it up astrally, as elaborated in the next tale.
2. I was living in Highland Park, New Jersey, near Rutgers, where I was taking a summer course. One day I was walking across a bridge, and I found some plastic colored squares, each with its own name. The orange square said "orange" the blue said "blue", etc. I picked the up and took them home and put them on my dresser. The next day I walked across a different bridge, and I came upon some color sample strips like they hand out at paint stores.  A bunch of colors, each with its own name. And then a third day, along a road, I found a similar thing, and took it home and put it on my dresser.

I called my buddy Mike on the phone to say hello. (He lived hundreds of miles away.)  His brother Bob, whom I vaguely new, answered the phone. I said, "Hi Bob, how are you. Tell me something I don't know."

Bob said, "Colors, John. They speak to us. But all they're trying to tell us is who they are, what their names are, how to relate to them.

I said, "Thanks, Bob." And I hung up. It was too freaky.

Later, I asked Mike for an explanation. How did Bob know what I was thinking? Mike explained, "It's not like that. It's like, there's a bunch of cosmic television shows being beamed through the astral universe that our brains can pick up. You and Bob just happened to be watching the same show.

I know it's very unscientific of me, but I believe in some of that kind of shit because it happened to me so very strongly.

I'll see if I can locate my diaries on this topic, because I'm sure I've written up some of my other experiences.
Buy my books, dammit!

schizophrenia. Have you been smoking skunk? It's four billion times stronger than weed was in the 60s.

I'm English, and as such I crave disappointment. - Bill Bailey

. . . which translates as "something which we do not understand", is scientifically explainable, just not by us yet.

Wondering about it helps pass the time...
--
Hard work is morally wrong.

You should've gone and chatted up the girl in the gym. She was sizing you up with 'em.

Also, you're going to have to really commit to the RV programme. It's a *tonne* of work to kick-start and you'll have to really stay at it to maintain any respectable level of proficiency.

Irony: ammo says it's time. Tom is blocked.