“Here was a complete stranger talking about us as if she had known us all our lives. And she was mentioning intimate details that we had never talked about other than within our own group.”

I play in a blues band, but I don’t do it for a living. I’m a computer programmer by day, and by night I live out my fantasies with three friends I’ve known since grammar school.

We write songs during our spare time and perform at small venues in the hope some record executive will hear us. After all, what’s life without having something to dream about and hope for?

Several months ago, we stopped by a place where we sometimes perform. We just went over there for some drinks and to listen to the newcomers who play there on open mic night.

As usual, the “talent” was mediocre, but then an older woman (when I say “older,” I mean she was maybe fifty years old) walked up to the stage with her guitar and started playing. She had a quality about her that was mesmerizing, particularly because she talked rather than sing.

At first she spoke about herself, her ex, her kids. Then she looked across the room at our table and starting talking about us. At first we laughed at everything she said because we assumed she was just winging it, making things up. She spoke about who we were, our aspirations, the kind of music we played, what did for a living. But then she was getting very specific – and very accurate. She was right on.

Here was a complete stranger talking about us as if she had known us all our lives. And she was mentioning intimate details that we had never talked about other than within our own group. Things like what we thought about the manager of our band, how we almost let our drummer go even though he was a good buddy (You should have seen the look he gave us when she mentioned that.)

And when she said Barry, our lead guitarist, was leaving his job to start a business, his mouth dropped open. He had never mentioned it to us.

Afterwards, she came over and sat with us. We questioned her knowledge of us and still thought it was some kind of trick. Then she dropped this bombshell: She looked at Gary and told him she was sorry his parents would be getting divorced. Gary stiffened and said his parents had been happily married for almost thirty years. She looked at him and nodded, then excused herself and walked away.

We all looked at Gary who seemed distraught. Then he called after her and said you may be right, they just started talking a few weeks ago about living separately. He asked how she could have possibly have known. She smiled and touched her heart. “It’s all in here,” she said. She wished us good luck and walked out of the building and that’s the last we ever saw of her.

H. Gubinoff
Toronto, Canada