If you believe, I’ll believe. Do you believe I can heal myself? After the knife stab wound turns wet with blood, there is no return from here. But I hear it, although tiny, I hear his thought.
I believe you can do it.
Then I am pulled, my mind is pulled and stretched, so wide and far reaching. My mind becomes endless sheets, the little information my ego self contained, instantly lost in this vast, endless space.
A tiny voice, in the centre of my mind-plane.
It’s me, or my ego-me. I’m small and like a child, but powerful. My mind-plane is a pale blue, it stretches beyond horizons, fading out and in. Ego-me, heal me. I believe.