What a session becomes over time

During this first session with Olivier, I was first projected into the future before evolving toward the figure of a wise shaman.

The setting of this first encounter takes place in front of an old traditional-style wooden house with a wooden terrace. In front of it, an extinguished fire releases subtle wisps of smoke, while two children sit wisely on her knees.

The silhouette of this shaman, whom I affectionately call « Shaa », is that of a very elderly white-haired woman — over eighty years old —, who radiates deep wisdom, positive waves, and a natural ability to soothe children.

On an emotional and energetic level, this first immersion allowed me to connect with a source of positivity essential to overcoming my vulnerabilities and finding lasting inner balance.

During an autonomous exploration, I connected with the shaman expressing the need to be guided toward a specific plant whose identity I initially did not know.

After welcoming me into her treasure-filled house, Shaa led me further into a bright forest to help me in my quest.

Although the physical plant did not materialize before my eyes immediately, I understood through deep intuition that it was ginger.

In another autonomous venture, I visited Shaa again with a request centered around the need for a medicinal plant.

Upon arrival, I found her on her terrace before being invited to enter and sit inside her cozy home.

Shaa immediately validated my request by presenting the plant I was looking for: sage, which I recognized and identified without hesitation.

This meeting continued with the careful observation of her preparations — infusions, concoctions, and various remedies —, illustrating the scope of her benevolent role through a deeply shamanic approach.

During another autonomous visit, I went to see Shaa driven by a simple need for presence and comfort during a moment of low spirits.

The scene unfolded simply: Shaa was sitting on the edge of her terrace, and I came to sit quietly by her side.

This shared sitting, devoid of any verbal artifice, acted as a true soothing balm, illustrating the solidity of the trust relationship forged over the months with this inner ally.

During a new guided session to meet my totem animal, I met Taïga, a white tigress.

The impact was striking: I found myself immersed directly inside her, to the point of becoming one with her essence and fully embodying her physicality.

Perched at the top of a rock overlooking a vast wilderness of large grass fields, trees, and rugged landscapes, I felt considerable inner strength.

This elevated position was accompanied by a sense of protective responsibility and benevolent pride toward the world surrounding me.

The vision continued with a shared run alongside another tiger perceived as important, amplifying the perception of organic power, muscular coordination, and absolute freedom, free from all fear.

During another foray undertaken out of a need for strength and grounding, I returned to meet Taïga by connecting once again inside her.

This experience translated into a quieter walk, deeply rejuvenating and soothing, which restored a considerable influx of energy and vital power.

Unlike the total immersions experienced during other sessions, Taïga's manifestation transformed within the framework of my daily sophrology and visualization exercises.

When I escape to relaxing places, I call upon my two white tigers, and I systematically perceive her reassuring presence positioned just to my left to accompany me.

This faithful and benevolent traveling companion watches silently by my side, offering permanent support that perfectly matches my current personal journey.

Preconceived ideas had made me hesitate, as I was unfamiliar with this concept. After reading and hearing about what it involved, I wanted to experience a first session to better understand myself and improve the meaning of my life.

Here I am, decided to experiment: lying down, calm, on the sofa with my eyes closed, I hear a gentle voice taking me into another universe. I wanted the extreme, to see how far I could go—something that is not obvious in normal life.

I feel myself in the skin of a man I name Richard. He takes me into the desert, a place I have never been. It is immense, beautiful, colorful, and silent, with absolutely no noise. Dunes and dunes: I always want to go beyond to see what is behind. I walk, I climb one dune, two dunes, and I feel no fatigue.

I arrive in front of an oasis, as if it fell right upon me. Water, palm trees. It is the first sound I have heard in a long time: running water. I feel soothed, I feel well.

I have reached my goal. I thank Richard, I tell him I feel well, and I wish to return home, into my mind, into my life. I stop this experience: very simple, very beautiful, and telling me that I can achieve a lot. Throughout the session, I remain myself: I can stop whenever I want.

From time to time, in daily life, I think of Richard. I tell myself: it is true, I was far away, I can do a lot. I already feel a bit stronger.

One day, I experience a minor health issue: I find myself lying down, all alone at home, in a freezing cold. I cannot warm myself up at all.

Suddenly, I think of Richard. I close my eyes again, returning to the experience I had lived a month or two prior. Richard was still in a corner of my mind.

I call out to him, telling him that I am very, very cold, that where he took me I was warm, well, and serene, and that I would like this warmth to return to my body and mind.

I return to my sofa. The sensation of cold has completely vanished: I find myself enveloped in a warmth that is beautiful, gentle, not too hot, just right. I thank Richard: whenever I need to, I come back. It pleasantly surprised me.

After the experience with Richard, I decide to do another reactivation: what would I like now? I told myself: we live in a crazy world, and I would like to be surrounded by warmth—this time, human warmth. That is not really my nature: I am rather quiet and solitary. But I wanted to know if it existed, if it was possible to feel better.

I lie down, close my eyes, and hear that gentle voice: where would I like to be? In a forest. I love nature. There, there is sound: birds, the wind in the trees. A lot of sound, but nature's sound. it suits me enormously.

I walk, and I hear laughter in the distance, a different sound. I approach more slowly. I arrive at the edge of a clearing, hidden by the trees: a large table set up, many smiling people talking, children running, singing, playing.

I really like what I see, but I am shy: I stay in my corner behind the hedge, watching them. Then I tell myself to go ahead, to step into the character of Mado and approach very slowly.

I am told to sit next to them. They make room, and I place myself in the middle—as if I were part of their family. No questions asked: I felt as though I had always been with them. Welcomed with open arms, fearful yet at home. A moment of plenitude. I tell them I must leave, I express my gratitude, and I return very gently to my sofa, it was so beautiful that it took me a while to recover.

This second experience happened a few months ago. Unlike Richard, whom I think of often because it was truly something else, with Mado, I return often when I am sad or whenever I feel like it.

Each time, I am welcomed wonderfully: I belong to this world, to their world. It fills me with joy, and afterwards I feel wonderful for quite some time.

What is wonderful is that I can return to this calm, magical universe by myself whenever I need to.

I return with pleasure. I know I will do other sessions to help me move forward. I will continue with Olivier to discover new experiences because these were too beautiful. They help me in my daily life.

A slight apprehension facing the unknown, and above all a keen curiosity to live an extraordinary experience to reactivate my creative capacity through writing.

My request for this session: to explore, deep within my inner script, a happy and positive narrative line in which I identify with the capacity to create through writing — or live, for the length of a film, the trajectory of a highly recognized writer.

I crossed paths with a character: Tom — short for Thomas, from the Aramaic name t'oma, the twin, like the promise of a double. A traveling companion on another timeline. The setting seemed to belong to the turn of the 14th or 15th century.

First scene — a modest dwelling: Tom, barely thirty years old, sitting on the edge of his bed, absorbed in writing. I did not dare break his silence — the act of creating held him entirely.

Second scene — the vast hall of a castle: Tom surrounded by companions and a dear friend. There he reads his poems in an atmosphere of shared joy.

Third scene — on the water: first a small boat, then a ship accompanied by his Isabelle.

The dialogue did not take place through words, but through telepathy, from thought to thought. Without speaking to me directly, Tom transmitted what he carried — feelings, love, the direction of his steps — like a silent legacy. Detaching from it was an ordeal.

The journey continued: Tom had to flee, abandon the one he loved, take to the sea to escape the pursuits his writings provoked. After the storms, refuge on a remote island. Before that disappearance, he entrusted me with a message, placed at the bottom of a chest.

A very emotional session, filled with energy — the feeling of having traveled very far, in a precious light for my daily life. Serene and soothing.

Beyond the visible thread of his existence, Tom's discreet presence and playful spirit did not leave me. He slipped into my inner life — like a reference actor who became an integral part of my personal cast.

Fifteen days after the session, I was still feeling its benefits. This experience had opened doors that were previously closed.

It is not a fixed re-run of the first day — it is a living dialogue that I reopen autonomously, quite regularly when I am in a moment of peace.

Over seven months later, the experience has become a genuine everyday tool. I remain completely at the helm: Tom does not write for me, he never interferes in my life. I am the one who decides when I call it.

Since that first encounter, the journey has continued. I have seen Tom again on several occasions — each time like a new scene, not a simple re-reading of the initial film.

A simple call is enough for him to signal to me — or to appear in the foliage of the trees. He walks beside me in silence, an unwavering support in daily life, especially in moments of peace.

He has invited himself into my notebooks: his voice comes to nourish the thread of my stories. He has become for me the figure of a timeless character — not a fixed recording of the session, but a resource that I reactivate and with which I continue to write new scenes.

My initial request — to touch upon creation through writing — finds its answer in this continuous use: more than seven months after the session, I am still using it and the tool evolves at my own pace.

1. On-the-fly dialogue (The ship and horizons): When I need some stepping-back time or clarity, I grant myself a few moments of calm to find this mental space. I can thus find him on his ship imagining horizons or exploring past sceneries to nourish my reflections, while remaining fully in control of my choices.

2. Sharpening attention (The impact on the perception of reality): What I found most striking over time is the impact on my perception of reality. A few days after a mental exploration around the notion of vigilance and protection, I caught myself spontaneously intervening in reality to point out a real danger to passersby near an embankment. It is not magic: the tool simply trains the brain to catch environmental signals that we usually miss on autopilot.