Shamanic Journey (2)

When I’m in a relationship, why am I so afraid of losing, of losing myself, but also of losing the other? I go to the lower world to meet the spirit of an animal without knowing which one will be able to answer my questions.

I go down to a dark place where I often go. It is an underground cave in which I systematically find a Spirit who watches over me. As I face this Spirit, I vaguely perceive a movement on my right. When I turn to it, an animal moves in my direction. Halfway between a fox and a dog, I seem to recognize a coyote. As soon as this thought passes through my mind, I find myself thrown into a desert. I see cañons far away from my position, a few rare dried-up tall grasses plow under the wind which raises the dust. It’s hot, very hot, and it’s impossible to get in the shade.
The coyote is sitting in front of me and looking at me insistently. He’s waiting for something. From the corner of my eye, I think I see a piece of meat in my right hand. I approach my face and observe that it is my hand that is bloody, the flesh is raw. I feel no pain and extend it to the animal. It doesn't take it and continues to scrutinize me. My left hand is now in the same state as the right, and when I look at my body, I see that it is leaving in tatters. There is a lot of blood, but it doesn't spread on the ground. No feeling. No pain or fear. My fingers grab my tongue, break most of it, and give it to the coyote, which takes it delicately between its teeth and then runs away. Surprised, I don't make any movement. The temperature of the air is burning, the sun hits hard, the dust still flies. My body dries up and gradually becomes a mummy lying on the ground. The shape of my body suggests that the agony was long and painful and I still feel nothing.
I jump when I feel a presence close to me. I open my eyes. I am well in my room. I closed them, determined to continue my journey, but the sensation of the presence made me reopen them. I then see a vague, clear form, as if it were a cloud. I sniff and smell no smoke. The shape becomes clearer and I see very clearly an elderly man. In my room, at the foot of my bed. The man has red skin, baked by the sun, his black hair streaked with gray are cut squared and a blue band encircles his forehead. He smiles at me and I'm immediately thrown with him into the desert.
I then watch him pick up my mummified body. He binds it in a sitting fetal position and then takes it away. I follow and we join other people, a tribe waiting for us. I attend a ceremony around this body and then it is placed in a niche dug in the rock, in height. The mummy's face is turned towards the sky and it is at this moment that the coyote returns, the piece of my tongue still intact between its teeth. He places it at the foot of the old Indian who picks it up and places it between the mummy's lips. It is strange to see this racorni body with this bright red tongue that makes like a spot on its face.
I wait, but nothing happens. I thank and come back.