I Really Shouldn’t Be Saying This, But I Have A Paranormal Gift I’ve Been Hiding Since Childhood

And sometimes, even when I was trying my hardest to concentrate on the world I lived in, my memories got jumbled. I couldn’t tell if my father had just asked me to take out the trash or if that had happened to one of my doppelgängers. If I had just let the dog outside or if he was still snuggled up in his bed.

The images came in the clearest when something scarring happened. The intensity of the event was in direct correlation with how strongly the signal came in. When something big happened, when death happened, my “real world” vision was disrupted and all I could see was the other world.

But when nothing particularly interesting was going on in the other universes, the pictures were fuzzy, like a television with hundreds of channels layered on top of each other. They were still there, but after all of the practice I’d gotten, I could ignore them easily enough. It was like mentally cutting out the background noise in a cafeteria when you were trying to read.

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