Such power The lattices unfolded, releasing images and numbers... people became clear, their lives known to me, a child of the mind... daughter of telepathy

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Helen Clavering

Such power

The lattices unfolded, releasing images and numbers...  people became clear, their lives known to me, a child of the mind...  daughter of telepathy

Can you see? Can you smell, hear, touch a million senses that aren’t yours? Can you sense a person’s innermost thoughts? See through their eyes, until all you feel is a shell of a world, just one small view of the complex image you know is there.

Look around, with your inner eye; a whirlwind of images, sounds, words. Faces stare in the vortex; old voices test new phrases; a smell revives a stranger’s memory. How do you hold it all? Whose feelings are real? It could engulf you, this power, the helplessness of the feeble minds you enter, until your cry enough! rings through so many heads…

You can bury yourself in one mind, or open up to the cacophony of the world. What surfaces? More complex than the physical world; thoughts can scatter to dark corners, or collect in the forebrain; how much can you read in the blackness that mere mortals cannot see? Subconsciousness. In there a part of us lurks, suspicious of everyone, waiting till our defences are torn to shreds and we can show our true nature, our first strength.

Some people snap early; succumb to pressures, do what the voices say. Life can seem easier when you don’t have control… frustrating for some, for many it is simple release. How then can you cope? The responsibility, the knowledge – gleaned from others – of the consequences you might unknowingly inflict. That word seems nonsensical: you, the mind reader, the gifted, not knowing something. But if you don’t – can’t see the future, should you still control people? Do you? Do you learn from yourself as well? Either you become ruthless, manipulative, or terribly afraid of your gift. How could such a child grow normally, with those thoughts – unsaid, but not unheard.

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Decisions. They fill our lives, and the child sees. Yet do we truly decide for ourselves? We are influenced by every experience we have, every choice we make. We become the product of the life we lead; but somehow we made those decisions, often early on, about our future. Somewhat paradoxical is this world; clearly personality does not spring into existence, yet it influences itself in an unending spiral. No two choices are the same size, without ever becoming unimportant. Suppose, a most whimsical choice, someone wears light, loose clothing - on the very day a fast car whips past, catching ...

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