Last days I've been reading a book called "Season of the witch". Found it on a shelf at home, and started reading it, despite the silly title, because I had nothing better to do. After 1 hour I stopped reading it and started living it.
Few chapters a day, I got very much into the physique of the protagonist, and the time spent
away from the book it was actually time spent thinking about what the characters would be doing or thinking.
There's a missing person, a boy died or disappeared, and then a remote viewer goes into the astral plane, somehow into the past to find out what happened to the boy.
So after reading that I wanted to do it too of course. I relax my body, empty my mind and imagine myself on a different place and time.
And it works, kind of. But I still don't know if it's all in my mind or I'm actually in another dimension.
If there even exist other dimension, I think my skepticism is so big that it prevents me from experiencing some amazing stuff.
Scumbag brain..
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