by J.M. Lawrence*

Inside a South End psychic's parlor, my visit with the spirit world has just begun and already we've reached the outer limits.

Alex Palermo, owner of The Tremont Tea Room, says there are good psychics - and outright grifters. (Staff photo by Tara Bricking)

``Don't wish for something that can't come true,'' says Sheila, the psychic adviser with stained teeth, a deep voice and hands that don't look like a woman's. ``Don't ask to be a millionaire.''

She begins dealing some worn Tarot cards in a circle next to an old black Bible.

Bad luck has chosen me, she explains with about as much emotion as a T conductor announcing a stop at Park Street.

She offers to light candles in her church to help me. Nine candles. Each one will cost $10.

``That's not a lot of money,'' she reassures.

Her voice reminds me of a first-grade playmate who tried to convince me that a mud pie was chocolate cake.

With two weeks to go till Halloween, psychics' tables around the Hub are humming with clients interested in what it really means to go wireless.

Besides, this is the time of year when pagans believe the veil between the living and the dead grows thinnest.

But like any profession, says Alex Palermo, owner of The Tremont Tea Room, there are good psychics - and there are outright grifters.

``Just like there are doctors who impregnate someone while they're under anesthesia,'' he says.

Boston Police files are filled with stories of naive seer suckers who got caught up in the old gypsy con: A card reader wants cash to lift a curse or make a wish come true.

A psychic should leave you with a clearer picture of yourself, not a stomach ache, Palermo says.

``What people leave here with is more clarity about their personality and what blocks they're having,'' he says.

Psychic Sandra Levine, who has taught Tarot reading in Newton for 18 years, said a card reader should never tell you something awful even if they see it.

Levine and Palermo also said stay away from psychics who want you to return immediately. A visit every six months or so is good, Palermo said.

Be advised that a fortune teller's license in Boston costs a mere $200, and City Hall doesn't test crystal balls.

But Salem psychic Barbara E. Szafranski puts her mediums through the toughest test of all. ``They all have to give me a reading,'' she said.

Inside Szafranski's busy shop, psychic medium George Fraggos sat before a collection of crystals and talked to the spirits for me. The dead see me traveling to warmer climes in February and enjoying aerobics.

The spirits also honed in on my taste for fruits and vegetables and advised me to pick up yoga - not exactly bombshells from the beyond.

But Fraggos and two other psychics I visited quickly pinpointed a major breakup I endured recently. Their insight seemed especially eerie because I tried not to offer any clues.

A psychic at Regina's Tea Room in Quincy told me I would meet a new romantic interest in six days, or six weeks or six months. She wasn't sure.

Six days later, I met a man while hiking and we wound up having dinner.

Renowned skeptic James Randi, a former magician who has spent decades debunking psychics, says it's all hokum. Psychics and their sitters are enjoying a game of self-deception, he says.

``You're getting some feel-good stuff,'' he says. ``You're getting things you expect to hear, things you want to hear.''

Take travel plans, for instance. Four psychics have me logging frequent flyer miles soon. ``People love to travel,'' Randi explains.

At Open Doors in Braintree, psychic Marie Lattouf swirled Turkish coffee in a white cup and eyed the stains.

She missed my age by five years but told me that children love me and offered a comforting reading straight out of fairy tales.

`The man you will want to marry has a beautiful house,'' she said with a Lebanese accent that heightened the mystery. ``He wants to build a house, a big, big house. Oh, he's cute. He has good taste. You be very happy.''