Welcome back to the River Shaman Ramblings. This week, we continue the “Saga of the Ham Sandwich” with a tale of astral projection, imprisonment, and a desperate bid for freedom. I found my other half, a fairy being, trapped in a new, sterile room by her abusive mate. Her wing, a symbol of our connection, had been brutally tattered, leaving her a prisoner unable to even see her own children. The sight of her mate’s contempt as she danced was the final straw, and together, we decided she had to run.

The escape was not the end of the story, but the beginning of a new kind of agony. While my other half was free, I was left reeling, screaming my rage and pain into the void of space. The ripped wing was a constant, searing reminder of the trauma, a pain I had to hide from friends and family who wouldn’t understand. They just wanted the screaming to stop.

My search for help grew desperate. Just as I hit my lowest point, the connection flickered back to life. She was watching a sunrise, the first she’d seen in ages. As she performed a familiar ritual dance, our bond strengthened, and I could see through her eyes again. Below her tree, three travelers with a wooden cart appeared. Unafraid, she climbed down to them—like a squirrel, a revelation that made me laugh—and offered them a blessing. After a long conversation, where I helped her find her voice to show them her tattered wing, they covered her head with a red cloth and placed her in their cart. As they pulled away, she watched the world go by, thinking, “I forgot what a sunrise looked like.” She was starting a new chapter, but I was left behind with my pain, my failing cosmic connection, and the dawning realization that this fight was far from over.