He calls it ""auric vision,"" and, thank heaven for small favors, this isn't a how-to, merely a silly narrative of the way Stanford functions as a psychic, able to see pink, yellow, red, and blue hazes around nearly everybody he meets. But then, if you had a wife named Kitty-bo, a grandmother who saw visions of fireballs that coincided with the death of her relatives, and a previous incarnation (Dr. Clark, who practiced medicine on the South Side of Chicago), you might be seeing hazes, too. Once, he slit Kitty-Bo's foot with a razor blade to remove a sliver of glass that doctors were supposedly unable to find. He saw its aura, you understand. He cites instance after instance of his ability to ""see"" other people's illnesses (a particular penchant for the diagnosis of vaginitis, prostate trouble, and the like, here), and even claims he conversed with the transported body of a comatose boy on his way to heaven at 5:01 A.M. And I am Marie of Rumania.