Fell Into A Hole

If I reassemble all the moments I entered dreams, how I tap into that unique inner landscape, I naturally return to this very moment.

In the fourth year of my journey, I finally made my way to the western half of Australia. My partner and I found a job opportunity on the border between South Australia and Western Australia. A roadhouse sat in the middle of one of the longest stretches of highway across the Nullarbor Plain.

As remote as a place could be, there were no other shops or residences within a thousand kilometers. It was an uninhabitable, dry, arid land. We decided to come here simply because it seemed like a great opportunity to save money and experience a completely different lifestyle. On top of that, it also gave me the chance to make my way back to Uluru.

A couple of months later, as I settled into our three-person housekeeping team, I formed a beautiful friendship with one of my coworkers. She was a Kiwi who had been living in Brisbane before leaving her family behind to come here and work as the housekeeping manager.

She was a devoted Christian in her 40s. Every day, she came to work surrounded by an effortless joy and love that embraced everyone around her. We clicked instantly and became best friends. We shared the hardest moments of our work with laughter, endless conversations, and great music. We would crank the volume up and just lose ourselves in the euphoric world. Because of the way she saw everyone and everything through the lens of the divine, we inspired each other and somehow found the purest form of ourselves.

I guess every spirit goes through a dark tunnel before it reaches the light, and so did we. Perhaps we could only see the light in each other because we had both shared the same dark past. This friendship felt fated, yet it came to a tragic end, leaving a void within me that will never heal.

One of the most precious thing my partner and I have shared ever since we got together is telling each other about our dreams every morning. It almost feels as if we dive into the unknown depths of the ocean together, each returning to the surface with different treasures to share beside a warm campfire. Whether it is a nightmare, an outrageous adventure, or simply the food we crave, we walk this path together.

I spent almost three years wandering alone through the desert, enduring whatever felt heavy within me. In search of the truth, I confronted my inner conflicts with all my strength. Even after I met my partner and finally had the chance to put my guard down, those years had left a deep scar on my soul.

There was still a part of me that craved self-destruction and didn’t believe I deserved gentleness and love. It craved attention and competition, constantly pulling me apart. As it slowly eroded my spirit beneath the surface, I often felt there was no way out except to hide it, just like I was constantly trying to choke my own throat. The more I tried to look away, the deeper it hurt.

Just as I thought I would be confined within my own trap forever, my friend appeared. One day, while we were cleaning one of the rooms together, I finally showed her my scar—the look in my eyes, lost in a swirling emptiness. I told her everything. She recognized that look instantly and understood how my spirit had become trapped in those moments of trauma.

I broke down in tears and sat on the paved path outside. Then she told me the real reason she had to leave all her family behind and come here. God had called her to this place to save someone, and that someone, was me.

I was born into a family deeply influenced by Buddhism and was never familiar with Christianity. Although I have always been open to different religions, I firmly believed they all came from the same root, simply expressed through different images and texts…

In an era dominated by progress and science, despise the mystical and the unexplainable has become the norm. Perhaps the next step in human consciousness lies in our ability to absorb the wisdom of ancient traditions, transform it into our own individual expression, and marry those differences.

It feels as though every saint who had walked through darkness carrying their own light appeared at different phases of my life, each one arriving to kick open a unique door for me. Looking back, every encounter seemed to belong to the same cycle of love and creation, deeply intertwined with oneness and the living world around us.

I was fortunate enough to experience many different expressions of love: sitting on my father’s knee reciting Buddhist mantras with him as a child; attending group yoga and meditation classes from the age of eight; and, finally, experiencing the moment I am about to tell—a moment in which she brought God’s light into my life.

One night, she came into my room and prayed for me. She held one of my hands while the other rested on my forehead. We both closed our eyes, and in the name of God, she began to pray.

All of a sudden, a shiver spiraled down my spine. I had never felt my spirit so vividly as the physical world around me quickly faded away. I found myself walking down a memory lane, where I saw the darkness that had been hovering over me. I started to cry and tremble. The only reason I didn’t fall completely into that darkness was the light pouring in through my forehead.

Then she began describing visions. There were two numbers that came up to her-five and twenty-one. Those were the ages at which I had experienced horrors and had never been able to move on. She also saw my mother longing for our reunion after we had been apart for almost four years. The session lasted for five to ten minutes, during which I came out like a newborn child. She then told me that night, God would come and send me a message; just wait.

I was fearful of what would happen that night and couldn’t sleep. When my partner finished her shift and came back to our cabin, I told her everything. She gently massaged me and helped my body relax so I could finally fall asleep.

Standing at the border of dreams, at 3 a.m., I was suddenly awakened by something that didn’t physically exist. I noticed I was awake but wasn’t able to move. My eyes were closed, and my conscious was drawn toward a splendor beyond me, like a magnet lifting my fear into a warm glow. Every time I was about to fall, it lifted me up again. Slowly, in that moment, I realized this was God right in front of me.

At the peak of that ascent, a vision suddenly shot into my view. I was in the deep sea, watching a large whale and her calf swim through the ocean. The vision was so vivid that I couldn’t tell the difference between dreams and reality. It felt so real that, all of a sudden, I could feel the fear of the baby whale. My heart sank as I felt its deep pain. Then the vision pulled away abruptly; I was finally awakened; I took a deep breath and curled up into my partner’s arm, trembling. She noticed something had happened and quickly calmed me down. I told her about the vision I saw and how I was held by the arms of God, as she had walked me through countless dark nights. In that very moment, we both felt that somehow we crossed the border of dreams ; the morning bedtime story by the campfire was no longer just for quick laughter but something deeper.

Ever since this out-of-body experience , I started to question the truth behind my consciousness. Is it possible we actually all belong to a story, a story that is way bigger than all of us, and are we merely just recipients?

27th July 2026 10:05am Taipei, Taiwan