Master

Mud.

Most people are big fans of chatting about nothing, gossiping, saying nasty things and condemning a single person behind their back. This is especially common in the era of the Internet and social media. Even the name is officially given to this phenomenon – trolling. All this is due to the fact that people believe that words thrown at another person's back inadvertently, of course, when this person does not hear them, do not bear any responsibility and of course they will not have consequences in real life. That no one would know what they would say. But what if I say that not everyone is like that?

Developed psychic abilities have many disadvantages, the most important of them is to keep someone's secrets, which you inadvertently find out because of your sensitivity.

I was about 19 years old, then I recently gave birth to a child, that day my husband and I broke out to a restaurant for a celebration on March 8th. Of course, the restaurant was packed that day, it was noisy and joyful. My husband and I were sitting at the entrance to the hall, closer to the window, and a man was sitting at the next tables, in a large company. He looked to be in his forties, bald, stocky, and had prison tattoos on his fingers. He was sullenly twirling a fork in his hands, in a state of intense thoughtfulness. Probably, when I was looking at this man, I connected to his biofield, and I saw what he was thinking. It was a memory of the man's past, how in his youth, on this very holiday, he stabbed a pretty blonde in the stomach, making her drunk, and when he woke up, realizing what he had done, he took the body out of the city and buried it in the woods. When he had done all this, he threw up, the man, swaying, got into the Volga and drove away.

When people gossip or think too loudly (get emotional about their thoughts) about me, I read it. Information comes in dreams, in the form of sudden visions, or as video clips, trying to convey to me the very essence of gossip.

Dirt No. 1

I posted my feminine "playful" photos of me playing with pearls in jewelry. I have a dream where I'm chatting at a table with people in a good mood, smiling a lot, and a young man with a cold and arrogant gaze stares at me from the other side of the table while smoking at the same time. I know this young man; he writes poetry many times better than I do, but he's a manipulator with dark, terrible secrets hidden behind his soul. My supervisor connected us, and he was very angry with the young man. Yes, I see him, I'm sorry, but this isn't the end of our story.