Tuesday, August 14, 2007
I waited for months for a reading from acclaimed psychic medium, Bobby Brust. On the date scheduled I showed at my brother in law's house (he had just lost his wife to brain cancer), waited hours for my turn, which when it finally arrived, he insisted on taking both my husband and me together. I respectfully objected for the sole reason that Mr. Brust had probably picked up a load of information on my husband, having spent the past five hours with four of his relatives. But with me, he had no information whatsoever. I was the true test. I wasn't born in the state of New Jersey. All my relatives, deceased and alive, were far away and probably couldn't be tracked through the resources available on the internet. So as I stepped onto the deck, excited to get my long awaited reading, he asked brusquely, "What's your name again?" I answered, to which he repeated in a mocking, annoyed tone. Not a good start, I thought. I sat across from him, wondering why he was reluctant to see me alone. The others went alone. He didn't want them accompanied by their spouses. He then launched into a preface, saying that some people can't be read, that their energy wasn't conducive to such exchanges. My soaring spirits fell hard. I knew then I waited for nothing, but I still hoped someone from the other side would come through, proving he wasn't a fake, that my grandmother and good friend, both of whom suffered excruciating deaths, were still with us and in a better place. How I wanted to believe! How I wanted a sign, any sign that would allow me to walk away happy and comforted. As I held my breath, waiting, he rubbed his palms together and closed his eyes. He then rattled off a series of numbers. "What does 8, 9, 10 mean to you?" he asked. I answered I was born on the 8th. Evidently, that didn't mean anything. "Thirteen, 14," he pursued. "Nothing," I responded, even though my brother was born on the 13th. "Seventeen, 18," he attempted again. I shook my head, knowing that one can ascribe a host of meanings to almost any number. "Twenty-two, 23, 24." I had to concentrate on avoiding the eye-roll as I told him my recently deceased sister-in-law was born on the 23rd, a piece of information that I'm certain he already knew, since he had spoken to her daughter, husband, and two sister-in-laws. He went on with two more numbers--27 and 28. Nothing, I said. I didn't want to give him too much information. After all, he was a psychic medium. He shouldn't need any hints or specifics about my life, and I wanted the assurance that the information given back was pure and couldn't be dismissed by me or any skeptic listener because I had revealed too many clues. Having no luck with the numbers, he started in with the alphabet. "R--Ronald, Richard, someone with an R." I nodded, saying my brother's name begins with an R, although his name is Rick. He smiled. "What do Rick and you have in common?" I mentioned the obvious--we're brother and sister. He went on. "Helen, Ellen, H." I shook my head. I didn't know anyone by those names, and that concluded my reading. He explained that too much of my husband's energy was coming through, and he would have to read him first before he could take me. I wanted to cry. I had so many questions, so much hope. Now, it's apparent that Mr. Brust's only ability is to employ tactics that glean as much information from his sitters as he can get, which he regurgitates into some semblance of meaning. He knows their need for reassurance and uses his craft to capitalize on their grief, an exploitation of vulnerability the worst of its kind. Sometimes, he mentioned the obvious, even though it wasn't correct. For instance, he assumed my husband's sixteen year old niece suffered scholastically after losing her mother, an event that's likely to occur, but wasn't the case--her grades actually went up. One would think that her deceased mother would have taken notice of this, if he were truly in contact with her. Bottom line: Don't get sucked in. Oh, by the way, he promised me a phone reading, since he claimed I was a conduit for energy and needed to be completely alone. It's been over three months and has yet to happen. What a bunch of bull! Don't waste your time or your money.