I had a premonition once that I was about to have a premonition. It never quite came. Like a sneeze that tickled the nasal cavity before retreating, like a snail, in a shell, thinking better of it.
Since then I’ve been dubious about premonitions. And sneezes.
When I was a teenager someone told me a sneeze was equivalent to an eighth of an orgasm.
I’m not sure in what sense they meant.
Pleasure? Power? Disappointment? Messiness?
By that logic I presume a premonition is an eighth of an actual event. You have the premonition which makes you dwell upon the thing, so that before you’ve even experienced the thing you kind of have.
Just a bit.
By an extension of that logic (stay with me) if I have eight of my aborted premonitions about the same thing – say, for example, I have eight premonitions about writing a blog post that goes viral – I’ve basically written a blog post that goes viral.
I’ve had eight eighths of the thing I was having a premonition about. Which is awesome. I’ve been wanting a viral blog post for a while.
Only seven premonitions to go.
I wonder if looking at the sun and rubbing my nose will make them come?
(Image: via pixabay.com)