It must have been around 1996 when my best friend Tom got the internet at his parent's place. I spent most of my summer there anyway, because his parents would go on trips and leave us tons of food and money to rent movies and nintendo games. He would always go online until he went to bed, which is when I would go online until ridiculously late hours of the night (a habit I can't seem to shake to this day).
One night I was talking to a girl who claimed her mother had supernatural powers. I laughed at her. I laughed until the mother, who was in the room with the girl, wanted to talk to me. Sure, why not, voodoo lady. She was actually really nice and funny, and asked me some questions. She asked if I had ever been able to tell if the phone was going to ring before it did, and such. She could tell I was not buying any of her mumbo jumbo, so she started to describe my surroundings. She could tell I was in a dark room, with a small light at the left of me. She could tell I was wearing shorts and a white t-shirt. This was all accurate, and no, Tom did not have a webcam.
I was still not buying it. Lucky guesses. I asked her how she knew. That's when it got real. She said she communicated with spirits, and she had found one near me. She said he was standing next to me, and was describing me and my surroundings to her. It sounds like some X-Files nonsense now, but to a teenager alone in a dark room, it was enough to feel uncomfortable.
She kept giving me accurate, detailed information. Then, she said I had a scar on my left leg, right in between my knee and ankle. HA. She slipped up. I did not have any scars on my legs. Bull Shit. So much for ghosts, lady. She replied claiming that sometimes she could see into the future. Yea, good save, I thought, but she guaranteed one day I would have a scar on my left leg as she described. Whatever, lady.
Almost a decade later I was on tour with Justice in the US. The Boston show was the record release for RJ's "Rage of Discipline" LP. I was moshing when Morgado started throwing garbage cans around and getting wild. At one point he grabbed me from behind and ran forward, for some reason or other, and I got smashed into the stage. I kept going, but after the song I noticed I was bleeding. Whatever.
I didn't realize it was a fairly deep cut until I took a shower that night. I put a bandaid on it and didn't worry about it much. I was on tour.
I don't remember how long it took me to realize that this wound had turned into a permanent scar. The stage had been about a foot high, and I got cut on my left leg, right in between my knee and ankle. I can't really describe how I felt when I remembered her, that fucking lady. That god damn supernatural ghost lady, she was right. That scar was staring right back at me. It hit me. I wasn't scared, or worried, but it was profound.
I don't really believe in ghosts, in spirits, or the supernatural. That said, I don't exclude them from my belief system either. I find it best to just not worry about it too much. I don't know how that lady predicted that scar. Maybe she took a wild guess, maybe she really did put a spirit next to me. All I know is she predicted the only visible scar I've ever had. Ironically, it did eventually fade. It was there for a good three years. So now, I don't even have proof of this ridiculous story anymore. Believe it or not, it matters little to me. But the Rage of Discipline record release will always have a different meaning to me than it does to you.