I Always Get Freaked Out Seeing Myself With Less Than 10 Fingers In A Lucid Dream 😭 I Almost Shifted

my dr self is probably getting wined and dined right now. i don’t want to talk about it.

shifting to regain your lust for life

stop focusing on your senses

when shifting, your physical senses are the last to shift! when you’re hyper-aware of your body, you could be anchoring yourself to your current reality.

let go.

detach from the need to feel immediate sensations and trust the process. you are in control.

focus on your intention, not on whether you ‘feel’ it happening. this is why i like to make it clear that not everyone feels physical symptoms, and that is okay!!! shifting is about aligning your consciousness, not forcing physical proof.

remind yourself: you are already shifting. every thought, every visualization, every moment spent in alignment with your desired reality brings you closer.

release the need for validation. your experience is valid, whether or not you feel tingles, heaviness, or detachment. trust in your mind’s power.

shifting isn’t something you have to ‘catch’ happening - it’s something you allow to unfold.

a/n; if anyone has any idea of what they would like me to make a post about, go ahead and use my asks <3

one of these days i’ll just wake up in my dr

a star is born every time a shifter kisses their s/o in their dr

i’ve been persisting for 2 days now, and everytime i close my eyes, i can just see my dr, it’s so easy to feel it as well.

i’m shocked because i haven’t been able to visualize in first person, only in third because i dissociate so much in this reality, and it makes me so out of touch with my body, but it’s happening naturally,

i also thought i’d have a hard time distinguishing myself and the main character from my book, but it’s so easy, because i’m not her.

it’s actually so easy to persist when you get it into your subconscious, i also think just talking about my dr as if i were there helped as well. i could shift anyday now.

„I’ll try shifting tonight”

NO

YOU WILL SHIFT TONIGHT

STOP LEAVING ROOM FOR FAILURE

Hello there ❤️ would you share how you spent vday in your dr?

how valentine’s day was in my better cr : a novella, a fever dream, an aesthetic experience, a love story to end all love stories

monday, tuesday : civilian behaviour. school, the humdrum, the daily grind, except coryo is the chauffeur of my suburban dreams, picking me up in the mornings like a perfectly curated boyfriend playlist, and we drive to school, me, unbothered, in the passenger seat of destiny. i love hiiimmmm. but wednesday. wednesday !!!

5pm. the text : pack some things. vague, thrilling, mysterious ???? like a mission briefing, but sexy. i throw my essentials into a bag because intuition tells me that valentine's day will be an event. at 7pm, he picks me up. drives me to the airport. his jet. HIS JET. no hints, no peeks, just the casual absurdity of a seven-hour flight into the abyss of love. i fall asleep on his shoulder like a tragic heroine, a modern-day sleeping beauty, only to be carried (yes, carried !!!!!!!! he's my prince charming) to the car when we land at 4am in paris. I LOVE HIM SO MUCH.

the ritz. the hemingway suite. i mean, come ON. i am in sweats, barely lucid, but my god, does he know me. paris at 4am is a whisper, a love letter, an empty museum of its own beauty. we sleep another six hours in the kind of sheets that feel like being swaddled by luxury itself. then, valentine’s day begins.

10am . . . breakfast in bed : croissants, honey, mimosas, little tea cakes that taste like poetry. he gifts me a heart-shaped pandora charm with diamonds, and i think, ‘sweet, simple.’ except, no. there is more. I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM.

12pm . . . musée d'orsay, because of course he knows me. at a cafe, he sneaks another charm onto the coffee plate. a beauty and the beast rose. i stare at him like he invented romance. i am giggling. i am twirling my hair. i am about to FAINT from love.

1pm . . . rue saint-honoré. he drags me into miu miu (i want to sob), buys me the little nappa hair clips, and then clips one into my hair outside before kissing my forehead. this man is a disease and i am not looking for a cure. I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM. he's almost about to drag me into louis vuitton and i'm making a run from it because i'd marry him. which is bad because we're 17 !!!!! no marriage !!!

2pm . . . ilang. my favourite restaurant. a shrine to my good taste (no, seriously, if you're in paris...go there ASAP. they have the best best bessssssstttttt korean food).

then, the champs-élysées, where pda levels reach new highs, where he buys me a box of ladurée macarons and matching love rings. this is sickening. i have to reciprocate. i buy him an acne studios scarf to match his coat and my miu miu bag, because symmetry is key in love and fashion. i love hiiimmmm. i can barely stand it.

4pm . . . we share airpods, clairo’s ‘juna’ plays, he spins me around on the street, and at this point, i am beyond salvation. send help. (don’t send help.) I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM. he takes like 100 pictures of me, and i swat him a few times. like....tenderly.

dinner : a boat restaurant, eiffel tower views, romance so potent it should be illegal. dessert comes with a love letter. this man. this fucker. i hate him. i love him. (six times over.) actually, seven. i love hiiimmmm.

by the time we're walking back to our hotel, he wraps his scarf around my hair like i'm a 60s french heroine.

11pm . . . we get back. and.

morning. . . i wake up : first, kiss him on the cheek, shift back.

et voilà. a love story, a weekend, a work of art, a religious experience. i will never be the same. i love hiiimmmm. endlessly.

notice how most of the successful shifting story times are people saying ‘i gave up and just went to bed’, ‘i just took a nap’, ‘i just affirmed and fell asleep’.

mhm. mhm. fuck methods, all you need is yourself!