The Pre-Cog Skyscraper

1/4/2025 –

In a trance I’m told that I can text myself with my phone, which has absolutely never occurred to me for obvious reasons. This is useful information. Metaphors man.

Then later the phrase:

“12 years.”

Pops into my mind. This is probably the amount of time that I’ll be alive in this incarnation. I would only have a problem with this if my life mysteriously gets way better. That would be infuriating. If it’s just the same shit, then this is totes fine with me. Probably. That is just a guess as to what this means though.

1/5/2026 –

It’s the Real World type scenario again except in this instance it’s very Big Brother (although I’ve never seen that show). As far as I can tell, 5 or 6 of us are like camping in the living room of this building or some shit. It’s a lively conversation and at a certain point it’s like the session is up and some of us are heading home for a break or something. Hard to say.

As we’re packing up our shit, this one average looking slightly thicker very mom looking white woman with big plastic glasses is talking about how she’s not coming back for the next session. I’m honestly confused by this decision because she seemed to be one of the more talkative and engaged cast members. We ask her why and she says it’s because she’s not comfortable with some of the directions the other cast members are taking things in. I immediately wonder if this is because of me and conclude internally that it quite possibly is. On the other hand, maybe I’m just being paranoid or self-important or both.  

Anyway, to make light of the situation I chime in that maybe it’s because I’m about to get a new fish. I’m not sure why this is funny but I am going to get a new fish. A white one. In my mind, I’m holding it in the left hand I’m raising to dramatically sell the joke. It’s like the other cast members can see it too.   

1/6/2026 –

I’m in a large second floor room of an unknown house looking out the window at the back yard. I’m playing either Guided by Voices or Robert Pollard solo stuff. The door is open and as I’m listening I’m immediately realizing:

“God, if my wife is hearing this, I don’t think she’d get it at all.”

And honestly, neither do I. When I listen to the instantaneously created Pollard gems, even I’m not quite feeling this album yet. Haven’t put in the work. How on earth is everything he does like this even though it sounds mostly the same? How would you sell another person on digging this? How indeed.

In a trance I’m told that I should talk to my wife’s aunt and my wife’s sister if we ever get divorced. I’m writing this down so we don’t get divorced but sure, if that does happen I should talk to those people. There are things about her they should know for sure. Not bad things.

Now a vision of this awesome array of what looks like brightly colored panels. 3 in 3 rows. A total of 9. Very cool and looks like an album cover. Which pulls me into this weird scene. I’m eating at a restaurant on a high floor of a skyscraper with a woman I believe to be my wife. We have this huge circular wooden table that’s very low brow back porch barbeque. Now this one black woman in an excellent white dress with a cutout middle flap and a fancy hat rolls in. She is immediately seated at a better table at a better window and served quicker than we are. We aren’t mad about this at all. Just noticing.

Also, there was debate about going to the Space Needle for the first time in a hundred years. The expensive package gets you to the front of the line and my friend recommended the cheaper option that I didn’t know existed AFTER I had this vision. That is 100% what this was about and I think it’s telling me the cheaper option would be fine. 

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