Nobody believed me when I said that I can talk to God, that he tells me things. I have seen futures both bright and dark, some incredibly fruitful and fulfilling and some stark. Even my own family thought I was crazy on that cold winter’s night, when everything started to happen, when everything I ever knew changed. It all started with a headache, a headache I’ll never forget. Then the lightning bolt hit me and I blacked out.

I used to love gardening before, and being in the outdoors. Now it just hurts my head, I can see everything so vividly. From the faintest bird cry to the whistling of the trees against the wind, I can see it all, almost like having night vision but twenty-four hours a day. I can even look at people walking by me on the sidewalk and their futures will flash before my eyes, weird I know. But this is the gift that I have been given, and I’m determined to use it. For better or for worse I must use it, God told me so. He gave me a second chance and I couldn’t waste it.

That was twenty-one years ago, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. I had been under the slumber of the lightning bolt for what seemed like an eternity. I could hear the rustling of feet and the beeping of machines all around me: Wake up Anna, Wake up. As I opened my eyes only to be greeted by the blistering lights above me. I was in a hospital, and that was only the beginning.

***

“My name is Anna Masterson, and I can talk to God,” that’s what I remember telling the doctor, she looked at me puzzled. “Anna, you’re recovering from a traumatic brain injury. You’ve had a bleed in your brain, it’s natural to recall things that never happened.” It did happen you fool, watch me. I looked at the doctor intently for what seemed like hours, but was only a few minutes. Her entire life started flashing before me; past, present, and future. Like a newly minted Hollywood blockbuster. I looked at her, poised as ever, and began.

“Your name is Dr Emily Knightfield. You studied medicine for 5 years at Columbia majoring in Neurology, but you really wanted to go to Harvard. You are 31 years of age and have been trying to conceive for the last 4 years with your husband Alistair with no success. I am happy to tell you to keep trying, you’ll both be parents in the next year. Shall I go on?” “How did you know all that!” she asked. Like I said God told me.

It turned out that I had a small stroke while walking to work, explains the thunderbolt putting me to sleep. The cause could be put down to my excessively stressful job as a Wall Street broker, I was a career woman above all else before I took up gardening. But what doctors couldn’t work out was how the bleed on my brain had miraculously dried itself up without medical intervention. It turns out God had taken care of that, even better than this prissy little doctor could. I hated being in the hospital, couped up with all my thoughts. And all these other people’s lives flashing before my eyes, all it took for me was to focus on them for a little bit and BAM…. The cameras would start rolling.

I couldn’t believe what was happening to me, Can I really do this? It was a blessing and a curse all at once. I was happy to give people piece of mind when there was a happy ending, but I took no joy in telling someone their life as they knew it was about to take a cataclysmic turn. As word of my knew found powers got around the ward, a nurse came up to me one night and whispered “Can you tell me whether I’m going to be promoted to head nurse?” I had to tell her that she was in fact going to be promoted so highly she’d never have to work in a hospital again. She’d taken a leave of absence as of the next morning, hospital management had found out she’d been sleeping with the ward’s director, and her boss. Such is the gift of the thunderbolt.

Each passing day in the hospital got worse and worse, I couldn’t wait to get out of there. The only thing that gave me solace was knowing that my new gift could help people. I even found myself smiling sometimes when delivering good news. God, I’ve turned to mush in here. I also noticed that Dr Knightfield was spending a lot more time in the ward watching me, writing things down on her clipboard. I thought nothing of it at first, but then other doctors started coming along with her. I knew something was up, and then God told me what.

It was my last night in hospital, the day before my scheduled release, when God came to me in a dream. “Anna, tomorrow there will be meeting with this doctor. Your son Daniel will also be there. The doctor will try and recommend you stay here for psychiatric observation, that’s what she’s been writing on her clipboard and asking the other doctors to observe. We both know you don’t need that. So when she can’t explain how the bleed dried up tell her I took care of it, then turn to your son and tell him what you see.”

***

I didn’t sleep a wink the whole night, thinking about whether the dream could be true. This is the only way that I can find out whether my gift is real. Sure enough, after signing my release papers, Dr Knightfield comes in the foyer and says “Anna, can you come this way please, I’d like to have a chat with you before you go.” Game on, Ms Priss.” I walk into the plain consultation room and see my son Daniel, “Hi Mum” he says. “How you feeling?”

“Great, never better” I say. Then Ms Priss interrupts “Anna, we can’t explain how the bleed in your brain has dried up, but you seem to have made a full recovery.” “Yes, God took care of that.” She looks at me with a mix of shock and disbelief and continues. “This is exactly the behaviour that I wanted to talk to you and Daniel about. I find this kind of talk very concerning and fear that you might be a chronic hallucinator. Which is why I recommend that you stay with us a while longer under psychiatric observation, if both of you consent. For your own good.”

Oh my god, the dream was real. I really do have a gift. I turn to Daniel, his face riddled with angst and fear at the doctors’ words. “Son you and I both know that I’m in no need of that bullshit, and I can prove it to you.” They both look at me flabbergasted, breathless, as if I’ve sucked the air out of the room. “Before you came here today the good doctor here called you to let you know her concerns, am I right?” Shock and awe are etched across their faces, like they’ve just seen a ghost. “Despite your better judgement, you agreed with this pretentious bimbo.”

Not giving either of them a chance to speak, I continued: “When you first came to visit me two weeks ago on that cold winter night, I told you about my gift. You like at me like I was the world’s biggest idiot. Why? Because you thought you were smart, and started plotting behind my back to get your inheritance well before it was due. Poor Mum isn’t of sound mind so I take control of her estate. Am I getting somewhere Daniel?”

My son looks at me in disbelief, stands up without a word and leaves the room. Dr Knightfield tries to salvage what she can, but I won’t have it. “As much as I’ve enjoyed my stay doctor, I must be going. I take great pleasure in the fact that this is the last time I will see you.” What I didn’t know was that it was also the last time I’d ever see my son. My Daniel.

***

I should never have done what I did to my mum. I live with regret every day. For twenty-one years, I have replayed that moment over and over again in my mind. I should have said something to her in the hospital, apologized. Instead, I just got up and walked out, like a coward. It’s been twenty-one years since I last saw or spoke to my mum, she missed out on so much and its all my fault. Everything that she should’ve experienced in her golden years was taken away from her, all because of one stupid mistake.

She missed my wedding, the birth of her grandchildren. She never even met them for God sakes. I tried to call and visit a few times but I never got a response, who can blame her. And now just like that she’s gone. A heart attack on her front lawn while she was gardening. So, I’m sitting here trying to find the words to write in this obituary with no luck. But I do know one thing for certain. My mum did have a gift.

I know this because when she walked out of Dr Knightfield’s office that night, the last time I ever saw her. She turned to me and said “One day you’ll have a daughter and she’ll look just like me, hopefully that will make you change your ways and think of your mum. Just like I always thought of you.” She was right, I did have a daughter. She’s just like her grandma. She’s my first born. We named her Anna, just like my mum.

Michael T

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