Almost Dying, the Number Two, and a Shaman Guide Named Otawatapatami

There are moments that change everything — when breath becomes prayer, fear becomes faith, and the veil between worlds feels paper thin.

This is one of those moments.

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Opening Scene: When Life Feels Like Its Final Act

Recently I found myself wondering:

Is it my time?

Am I dying?

It happened twice.

And each time, something extraordinary happened.

Scene One: Middle of the Night

I had sinus issues for a week,

then started feeling better,

then in the middle of the night —

I woke up feeling strange.

There was pressure on my chest.

It was hard to breathe.

My body felt cold and distant.

It felt like a serious issue with my lungs,

something I've never felt before.

I tried to stay calm.

Woke my husband so I wouldn’t be alone.

My dog pressed close, offering comfort and healing licks.

I focused on deep breaths.

After fifteen long minutes, my breathing eased.

I felt a little more like myself.

Then I listened to a Joe Dispenza healing meditation.

When the 30 minutes were up—

I felt completely well.

A quiet miracle.

Scene Two: Two Weeks Later

Two weeks later, we were in Chicago.

That first morning, I woke up with the same terrifying sensation.

This time, there was dizziness—but no coldness.

Relax. Breathe.

My husband’s calm steadied me.

My dog wasn’t there.

Again, after about fifteen minutes, I felt better.

I put on the same Joe Dispenza meditation.

If you’ve ever listened to his meditations,

you know he guides you with his voice—

steady, grounding.

But after a few minutes, his voice grew faint.

I could still hear the music,

but my soul was traveling somewhere else.

And then I saw him—

“He was breathtaking — wise, stoic, radiant. Long gray hair, shining eyes, wrinkled, beautiful brown skin, dressed in ornate, authentic Native attire.”

An American Indian Shaman stood before me.

He told me to chant.

To lightly, rhythmically beat my body with my hands—

my chest, my head, my throat, my eyebrows—

anywhere that needed healing.

So I did.

I chanted and tapped, following his rhythm.

When the meditation ended,

the shaman’s energy faded—

and I realized I was completely healed.

Before he left, I asked his name.

He told me to choose one and make it humorous,

“You love to laugh—make it funny.”

Immediately, I thought of Otawatapatami.

Just saying it made me laugh out loud.

And so, Otawatapatami became my Shaman Healer Guide.

Scene Three: The Power of Two

Two weeks later—again—

I woke up at 2 a.m. (two again!).

The air conditioner control on the wall was blinking erratically.

Usually, it blinks briefly after a power outage.

But this time, it didn’t stop.

I sensed a presence.

Maybe a spirit, wanting my attention.

I said aloud, “When I say your name, stop blinking.”

I tried a few names.

Nothing changed.

Then I said, “Otawatapatami.”

The light flashed rapidly for two seconds—and then stopped completely.

Scene Four: The Message

The next day, I asked Otawatapatami during meditation why he'd reached out:

“To help you learn healing —for yourself, and for others.”

As I meditated, I began to chant again,

lightly tapping my body as before.

But this time, something new happened.

Otawatapatami’s energy merged with mine.

My voice wasn’t my own.

My movements weren’t mine.

I was safe—protected—

and I knew I was channeling him.

It was the beginning of a new chapter in my spiritual journey.

Simply amazing.

Deeply humbling.

Has my character Larleen been close to dying...

Scene Five: Meaning in the Numbers

Everything kept happening in twos.

So I looked up the meaning.

“Two represents balance, harmony, loving relationships, and finding your life path. It’s sent by your angels to remind you that you’re not alone— that they’re sending all the energy you need to thrive. Trust in the universe.”

Final Scene: The Credits Roll

I’ve been close to dying—

and close to something divine.

Each time, I was reminded:

we're guided, protected, and loved.

Miracles are real.

Be your inner movie star.

xo, Kathleen Naomi

Fade out… not an ending, but the start of something extraordinary.