My eyes flit to the corner of my computer screen and I notice the time: 11:11am.
My first thought? “Make a wish!”
Swiftly followed by my second thought: “Get a grip.”
This is the internal battle I’ve had all my life when it comes to spiritual stuff, including so-called “angel numbers” like 1111, which is thought to be lucky.
Raised loosely Catholic then propelled into staunch atheism in my teens, religion and its associated spirituality has always felt quite hand-wavy to me.
Don’t get me wrong – I like a shiny rock as much as the next girl and have parted with cash for more than one attractive gemstone or clump of decorative quartz.
But spirit guides and psychic fortunes? Symbolic cards knowing the secrets of my future? That’s been too far for me to suspend my disbelief.
So I was using a crowbar to prop my sceptical mind open when I decided to have my tarot read, and see if there was any merit to this ancient art form that’s been exploding in the online world for several years now.
A woman (formerly) of science, I couldn’t go into a live reading without doing some prep work.
While researching places in Dundee to have my tarot read, I reached out to some local readers to get their perspectives.
Some, like Pitlochry-based mum and tarot reader Holly McNaughton, tell me they approach the cards more like a form of therapy or self-help than fortune telling.
Feeling more at ease with this approach of structured self-reflection rather than mysticism, I booked a live, in-person reading (worth £35) with Dundee tarot reader and self-professed medium, Lyn Milton.
I tell her up front I’m sceptical, and she’s gracious enough to agree to read me anyway.
Why did I almost flee Dundee tarot reading?
Meeting Lyn at her Downfield home is disorienting from the get-go; mainly because I struggle to find the address.
After some aimless wandering in a car park, a door opens and Lyn appears, tiny and lively, leading me in.
After my flustered entrance, she makes sure I’m comfortable in her warm, glow-lit living room, where she conducts her readings.
I’m about as comfortable as you can be when a photographer’s camera is pointed at you and your future is quite literally on the table.
“I’ve been in the tarot business for 10 years, and you need to be careful,” Lyn warns. “There are a lot of charlatans.”
Lyn explains that hers is a different kind of tarot practice, that she’ll be drawing “from spirit” i.e. communing with the dead.
“The mediumship came through when I lost my parents,” she says matter-of-factly. “I lost my dad at 17 and my mum at 25, and then it just came through one day.
“I saw them standing in the alcove of my living room, in the flat where I was living at the time. They were very much young and in love.
“From then, I’ve just developed and nurtured that gift.”
Honestly, at this point, I have to fight my feet, because they’re ready to walk. I don’t do ghosts.
But I did not come this far to chicken out, so we proceed.
Is my granny in the room with us?
Lyn starts with a “mini reading”, asking me to shuffle her admittedly very beautiful tarot deck and pull six cards.
This, she says, will help her “to know if I’m not touching on what you’re looking for today”.
Hmm, OK.
Instead of explaining the meaning of each card, Lyn takes a moment to assess them, then launches into her interpretation. A bold theatrical move if it’s not ‘real’, I have to grant.
“There’s been someone chaotic in your past, they took the wind out of you,” she pronounces. “A situation that was obsessive, engulfing.”
I try to keep my face neutral as my last properly messy breakup flashes to mind. Stay steeled, Rebecca. We’ve all been there.
Then things get interesting, when Lyn says: “You’ve been dealing with a lot of paperwork, haven’t you?”
I confess that no, I haven’t, but silently think that several people close to me are changing jobs and getting hitched.
Next, Lyn tells me someone is coming through from spirit. “A woman… with a necklace?”
I draw a blank.
“Or beads?” Lyn offers.
A flash of a memory. My gran’s pretty rosary. She sees it cross my face.
“She’s telling me that she’ll be here to help you with your energy levels over the next little while.”
I’m trying to stay stoic, but I have to admit that this spooks me out a little. Gran was always feeding us, “for energy”.
Yeah, says the rational part of my brain, like every other Scottish granny.
Do the cards dictate our futures?
Next comes the main reading, for which I shuffle the luxurious, vibrant cards again. This time, I draw 12.
Loads of them are ‘major arcana’ cards or swords, which can mean a lot of action or conflict.
The year ahead, it would seem, is a big one.
I’m pleasantly surprised when Lyn assigns specific months of 2025 to certain events or cards, giving the whole thing a concreteness which seems counter-intuitive to me.
“In April, things are going to speed up. You’ll be taking a big leap of faith, and I see that paperwork card again,” she tells me.
“And then in May, I see you raising a glass; you’re celebrating.”
(Reader, May will bring my 30th birthday. Coincidence, or result of a cursory Google, or true sight? I’m torn.)
The rest of the reading goes along similar lines; vague enough that I’m not fully convinced that there’s something otherworldly going on, but specific enough that I feel unnerved.
Some of Lyn’s messages don’t make sense to me – she references an impish younger person from my childhood, like a younger sibling. I’m an only child and no one springs to mind.
She also pulls a card that’s traditionally associated with pregnancy. I certainly hope not, and my face clearly conveys this.
Lyn assures me it can also mean a rebirth, that we have the power to alter our courses.
I pick rebirth, please, universe.
My verdict on Dundee tarot reading?
Overall, my foray into tarot has been – can you hear my teeth gritting? – very worthwhile.
Not only is it fun (picking cards! pretty pictures! symbolism!), it’s been a great opportunity to slow down and look at the bigger picture of my life, instead of just surviving day to day.
Overall, I feel more like I’ve been to counselling and had my biases about my own life probed, rather than had my fortune told.
And I can see how that considered approach would empower people to make big moves or have confidence in their decisions.
I have no plans to reinvent myself, or anything paperwork-y in the pipeline.
So I’m surprised to find myself thinking later: “Maybe I should.”
Maybe in some ways, tarot is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Time will tell.
Do I believe the cards are a psychic tool for divining the future? No.
But I have to admit, that when it comes to tarot, it’s more fun to be a believer than a sceptic.
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