My most powerful emotion (Anger)
When I was six years old, I experienced a premonition of the death of my seven-year-old friend and next door neighbor, Portia. The premonition happened during summer vacation. To get me out of the kitchen but keep me within range of her forthcoming call to dinner, my mother had set me to the task of weeding my father’s rose bed that ran along the back of the garage. From her back porch, Portia spied me working away, climbed over the fence separating our yards, and trotted over to see if I could play. After telling Portia I was waiting for dinner, she plopped down on the grass next to me and chatted a few minutes before taking off in search of another playmate. We said goodbye, and as I turned to resume my weeding, I had the distinct impression that Portia would not "be around" much longer. The impression came as a word message; it appeared from nowhere and was completely unrelated to the conversation we had been having. It was as if the words came through me rather than that I had thought them on my own, and they were accompanied by a sense of assurance, a sense that there was no need to worry because Portia would be safe and sound and happy in her new home. I didn’t consider the experience odd or unusual in any way; perhaps I wasn’t old enough for that. These impressions stayed with me during the evening and then gradually faded into the background. It wasn’t until a few weeks later when my mother came into my room one afternoon, sat down on my bed, and with great care and concern informed me that Portia and her mom had been killed in a car accident that the experience struck me as significant. Initially, it was the shock of the news that grabbed my attention.