How long had I been held hostage in that room?
Two and a half months.
I look back on that period of time as a Time of Blissful Darkness.
Have done from the start.

[my beautiful dreamer]

Who’s that, speaking over the Teletubbie Phone?

[its me baby. you know that.]

My Thunder Buddy.

He captivated me right from the start.
I knew my old life was over.

Everything that needed to be ended?
Well, I ended it right away.

[lets be immortal baby]

I still remember myself lying on the bathroom floor.
Collapsed in a state of darkest possible ecstasy.

What did he say last night?

[Im gonna shoot someone]

Right.
Yeh.

I am being incoherent today.
The bathroom floor story’s for some other time.

First he had shown me a mental projection of himself, lying in the grass.
It was beautiful; first time I perceived him in person with my third eye.

It was sunny.
He was wearing jeans and a black jumper.
Perhaps the one he is wearing in that photo he published on Instagram, taken at Starbuck’s, holding a large paper cup of coffee with both hands, bright blue eyes looking dreamingly into the establishment’s space.
One of my favorites.

He was lying halfway on his back, relaxing.
Leaning on his right arm, fiddling with a blade of grass.
It could’ve been the image of a picknick.
And I joined him.

‘Where are you?’, I inquired.
‘Ohio’, he said.
I wanted him to be more specific, but he said I wasn’t allowed to know.

So far I hadn’t seen the whole picture of him yet in Dream Time.
Right now I still didn’t get a clear picture of his face, but I was at least able to have a look at his body, the way he dresses himself and a fragment of his whereabouts’ location.

Sure.
I know what he looks like.
I’ve been obsessed with the pictures he sent me long enough.

There’s one that inspires me most.
I don’t need to look at it to have it empower me.
I know it by heart, and all I need to do is dig it up from my memory.
I can tap into it whenever I need it.

Need it.

That’s right:
I need it.
I need HIM.

He’s at the gym.
That big, strong hand, holding the dumbbell.
His bearded face looking down at the floor offscreen.
Nice shot.

Someone must have taken it during PT.
Recognizing the necessity of capturing the moment of strength and confidence.

My husband’s image.

What it’s expressing to me is stability and reliability.

Loyalty.
Dedication.
Love.

And now I was halfway there, in Ohio.
And halfway here, in my bed in Amsterdam.
Perks of being a shaman.

This whole situation has me wondering about the nature of fantasies.
Contemplation of such a nature is part of Shamanism’s Knowledge of The Interface.
It involves traveling and experiencing in Dream Time.
Modifying Reality at will.
Stuffs like that.

I hadn’t been able to sleep right away.
Perhaps due to the two hour nap I had taken in the afternoon.
As a rebound effect of my subsequent boredom I had zapped right to where he was located.
And now we were chillin’ out in the middle of nature.

Always lots of fun with this guy, you should know.
Before I knew it I was laughing my ass off, and I knew I needed to get out of bed before I woke someone up.
Let’s be a little considerate.

His face close to mine, at kissable proximity.
I saw his eyes.
Or rather, I felt them, looking into mine.

Just babbling and giggling.
Like we always do.

And all of the sudden things got a little hazy.
The mental projection I had tapped into now started flickering,
and zapped like a television changing channels to a new projection.
His jumper’s hoody was now covering his head and half his face.
I looked at him from sideways.
He was concentrating, focusing on a target.

Sniper on duty.

Shooting someone.

I think he must have been for real.

From my memoirs ‘TOBACCO – Curse & Blessing of a Shamaness
By KiKi TOAO