I can embrace the whole all at once like a painting or a statue. In my imagination I do not hear the work as it unfolds, as it must play out, but I hold it all as one block, so to speak… and when I succeed in thus ‘superhearing’ the entire assembly, it is the best moment.
—Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

For the first few months a duel was going on in my head. My logical self kept telling me
“I am totally crazy. I am imagining these sensations…these voices. They are coming from me and no one else.”


How can a person who had always been physically and mentally healthy — as sane as any single working mom could be — start having what seemed to be epileptic seizures, schizophrenic episodes and, for lack of any other description, be a hotbed of paranormal activity?


I had more than a few days when my mantra was…
“Get out of my head…get out of my head…get out of my head…”


I despaired…I cried…I just wanted to quiet my mind. I wanted peace. The comfort of the me before all THIS going on IN HERE, in headspace. I so needed grounding in OUT THERE reality.
But the voices always came back. They were always there.


Anyone would try to figure out what was going on, and being the lifelong learner I was, I started to look at my situation from all angles.
Who? What? When? Where? Why? How?…


The big picture was something strange was going on.
What exactly was it? How was it happening? Why? Who was sending signals — me? or someone else? When did I first start to experience “symptoms”?


I started to look back at my journal entries. Not only recently, but way back. Maybe I missed something along the way. Maybe I wasn’t paying attention or wasn’t aware that this had been happening for a while. I had always kept detailed journals. For whatever reason, the Type A me always timestamped everything. The more I looked, the weirder it got.


I flipped through the pages of old journals and I found the words from a former me whispering off the page foreshadowing like a phantom…future events.


I have always enjoyed playing with words and writing poetry. I continue to this day to struggle over just the right word to use to best express what I want to say. The rational part of me calls the odd phrasing I used back then, verses from the younger me, reaching out to me across the years, horoscopic — statements that could be read so many ways. They could apply to anyone’s life. The other part of me, the one that has experienced too many shocks, noticed too many correlations, is now in total agreement with Isaac Asimov


The most exciting phrase to hear in science, the one that heralds new discovery, is not ‘Eureka!” (I found it!) but ‘That’s funny…’


There just were too many coincidences to be coincidental.


At the beginning of my journey into this new reality the two sides of me continually swung back and forth like a pendulum between my overly-rational self and my open-minded self — willing to believe anything.
Rational Self: “I’m reading too much into this.”


In this age of instantaneous information, chances are some signals are going to coincide, right? When we’re bombarded by transmissions, where we find ourselves in the midst of criss-crossing lines of communication…monologues, dialogues…and what some have called an omnilogue — occurring simultaneously…in all directions.

Open-Minded Me: This is really happening.

I went through my daily logs that I timestamped throughout the day.

Any weird sensation.

Any voice I heard.

Any type of strange phenomenon.

But even with all these records, it could all be gibberish. I needed confirmation.


Start of transmission 16:58 26 June
ME…………………………………………….HE……………………………………………
ME: We need to meet. Is there some
sign? Some signal we can give
each other to let us know who
the other is?
I thought an InstaMessage on
InstaFeed, an image on PhotoSnap
or an idea on IdeaSpace. Something
we can post that only we will know
what it means.
Are you writing things down?
………………………………………………………HE: Hold on.
ME: It would be so cool to compare notes.
Timestamp, if you haven’t started.
Sign? Signal?
………………………………………………………HE: Not sure.
ME: You send sign or signal.
I’m starting to believe I’m crazy.
……………………………………………………..HE: You’re not. Okay, I’ve got it.
ME: What?
…………………………………………………….HE: Tree…
ME: Tree what? Tree Heart?
…………………………………………………….HE: Tree of Life.
…………………………………………………….HE: Feel this.
………………………………[right side tingling]
………………………………[strong full body sensation, then fades]
ME: Ahh….
……………………………………………………HE: Ha, ha.
ME: Don’t laugh. I’m working and
my daughter’s in the room…
This could be really embarrassing.
……………………………………………………HE: Good.
ME: NOT GOOD.
……………………………………………………HE: Ha, ha.
ME: Tease.
……………………………………………………HE: I know.
ME: Meet. We need to meet.
……………………………………………………HE: First sign. First signal.
ME: Yes. How should I respond?
……………………………………………………HE: You say….leaves.
ME: A sentence with leaves. Got it.
17:10 26 June…End of transmission.

Time had seemed to slip by
So fast I could not breathe
And it was gone and I relaxed
To find my troubles gone by me
I could see future hopes
that could and would be—me.
April 14 4:30 p.m. (16 years old)

My dream characters naturally were members of IdeaSpace, since I frequently participated in discussions there.

For weeks I scoured articles, InstaMessages, PhotoSnaps, blogs…whatever had been bouncing around cyberspace — reviewing as many media sources as my days and nights would allow.

And, of course, messages popping up on InstaFeed…Beautiful images uploaded on PhotoSnap…blog posts started focusing…on trees. Why were so many people now posting about trees?

I was seeing trees EVERYWHERE.

So, the big picture was that something strange was definitely happening. Like a kaleidoscope, my odd reality was this image made up of hundreds of colored pieces, each separately just a colored shape. All together? A beautiful mosaic. I started to break up the image. Started looking at how similar colors grouped together. What did those color groupings have in common?

IdeaSpace.

And what was each color of that kaleidoscope?
A comedian.
A journalist.
An IT specialist.
A social media power user.
… and an educator.


Risks and shared fears
threaten travelers
through visions
a restless peace
a sorrowful comfort
a confident despair.
September 22 8:09 p.m. (21 years old)


The comedian, journalist, IT specialist, social media power user and educator all had posted about trees. Now, which one was I communicating with?
Only one way to find out.
Retrieve. Upload. Type…

“Summer Leaves.”
PhotoSnap 12:20 27 July (41 years old)