The Man Who Read My Future from My Watch

The Man Who Read My Future from My Watch

A Prophetic Memoir Entry by Delahrose

I was young.

The early twenties.

Living in Mackay, Queensland.

The year was 1988—maybe ’89.

He was one of those old-school clairvoyants who travelled from town to town,

advertising in the newspaper,

setting up in a simple motel room.

No social media. No website.

Just a quiet confidence and a tape recorder on the table.

His name was John Barton.

I gave him my watch.

He didn’t ask for my birth date,

my star sign,

my questions.

He just held it,

closed his eyes,

and read the field.

And what he said…

It wasn’t just strange.

It was impossible.

At least, it seemed that way at the time.

He told me I’d have money connected to water.

He told me I’d get everything I wanted—

Then I’d sell up, move overseas…

And before I knew it, I’d be back again.

He said I’d be around very influential people—well-known ones—

But I wouldn’t be tainted by it.

That I’d walk among them,

but I wouldn’t bow.

He told me I’d nearly lose it all.

And then, out of nowhere,

I’d get it all back again.

More than I ever dreamed.

He said it would “roll in like that—almost in a week and a half.”

He said, “You’re part of the new. You’re not part of the old.

None of this will make sense now… but it will.”

And then, as if sealing a secret between timelines,

he added:

“Invest in gold.”

I’ve never forgotten that part.

And he said, with a tilt in his voice,

almost smiling at something only he could see:

“You’ll make your whole life feel like a holiday.

I don’t know how you’ll do it.

But you have the way.”

I didn’t understand any of it back then.

I tucked the tape away.

But the words never left me.

Because now—decades later—

Every thread is surfacing.

The fall. The exile. The return.

The near-collapse. The surge. The rise again.

The wealth. The water. The quiet power.

The influential people.

The life I’m now building that feels like peace,

not performance.

And yes—gold.

He didn’t just read a watch.

He read a soul contract.

He named what I hadn’t yet become.

And now, I remember him not as a man in a motel room—

But as a way-shower.

Someone who saw the future

not because it was probable,

but because it was promised.

And I?

I kept walking.

Through all of it.

And now I arrive

In my life, he glimpsed through the hum of my timepiece.

He read my future from my watch—

but only now…

Am I watching it unfold?

I do not know- though it makes me wonder…

Delahrose