Reuniting with my twin flame – A Second Dawn


The Christmas vacations passed, and I came back to Switzerland, and the same day my twin changed her profile picture on Facebook, my sister informed me

Sometimes my sister has strange intuitions that prove themselves correct

On her profile picture, she seemed to be smiling and crying to the sun, on a sand beach along the ocean, in winter times; on her face I saw the echoes of what we were living, a growing acceptance of her emotions, an endeavor to smile when she was crying inside

During all the Christmas vacations I had tried to write her, written her half a long letter, describing to her all what had happened to me, including the physical relationship with Chantal

But I could not finish that letter before the beginning of February, because I had too little energy

Meanwhile, in the middle of January, the book I had ordered, Anam Cara, finally arrived and I sent it to the painter

While Chantal sent her watercolor, the crying painter, to her twin, and the watercolor we had painted together to my twin, and she painted the envelope too, writing her address on the back

It gave us courage to be finally doing something to make things progress

Were their relationship waning as we thought and hoped?

Would they speak again to us soon?

Many questions remained answered, until one day Chantal had the intuition to look for exhibitions on the internet, and she found out that her painter twin participated to a collective exhibition the same day in *****

And we decided to go there, to see him, to confront him

She had met him only once in her life, nine months before

And he had not replied to the two watercolors she had sent him, nor to the book I had sent him

Did he even remember who we were?

We had studied him on social media in the last months, trying to understand the relationship of his nature with his boyfriend

And my intuition was that he too, like Chantal, had the tendency to fall prey of cold, manipulative persons, and I believed that his boyfriend had some of these tendencies at least, as Chantal’s boyfriends had had in the past

Chantal didn’t know what to think, as being with a manipulative person before had flawed her faith in her judgment, making her wonder whether she was the manipulative one, so broken and insecure she was within; and at first she thought her painter’s boyfriend to be nice and gentle

The exhibition night we traveled to ***** and hesitated before to enter; we both were afraid; we had lived in a chimera for a long time, and now finally we had to confront our vision with the reality

Finally, after addressing a prayer to heaven together on the dim river bank, we went in the exhibition space

At first the painter didn’t see us, he was too busy discussing with his mentor and his boyfriend and other people

And we didn’t look at him either, we focused on the canvases before us, those of other artists

Then, suddenly, the painter disappeared

We noticed he had gone; had he seen us?

His boyfriend and the mentor were still there

We dared breathe a little louder and we came closer to look at the two relatively small canvases the painter had brought with him at the exhibition

They were bluish and hazy and showed a person seen from the back in a foggy landscape of forests and lake

And there was another painting close to them, a painting by his boyfriend who had never painted before

And there was a tension, a vibration, in his painting that we recognized as control and domination

Meanwhile, the boyfriend started looking worryingly on his phone as though he was searching for the painter, and he disappeared from the room

A bit later, as nothing was happening, we started exploring the building and climbed to the first floor where there were artists workshops

We were a bit scared to be there, as we weren’t sure we had the right to explore the building, but we are too daring people after all and we walked on

And suddenly we heard a voice we recognized as the painter’s

We stopped, listened

Chantal was shocked to hear a singing slightly effeminate tone in it; we wondered if he spoke in that way because he was in company of certain persons

We waited there for five minutes, until they moved coming toward us

And the painter saw us

And he stopped

And he stared at us

And he started smiling and laughing

His smile was a little too broad, his laugh a little too tense

He looked from Chantal’s eyes to mine

And he said, I have received your paintings and your book

but you see I am shy and haven’t replied yet

but I found your painting very interesting with many symbols

And I look at it every night before sleeping, as I’ve put it on the small chest of drawers close to my bed

And then he stopped speaking and just looked beamingly at us

As though he was happy and scared to see us

And his boyfriend who was a few meters further had stopped, and listened, and his gaze had grew dark, as though he felt excluded from our little circle of intensity, and didn’t understand what was going on; his eyes looked territorially at us, protectively at his prey

who were we, how dared we, come so close to the painter

and how to explain his strange familiarity with us

The painter presented us, and he saluted us slightly coldly

Then the two left, telling us they’d come back

And we chatted excitedly with Chantal

Before the appearance of the painter’s mentor, who recognized us too

And started telling us the painter’s history, how much he loved him and took care of him, showing us his ancient workshops, his old paintings

And we spoke and spoke, and he reproached me gently of not having sent him my writings

The mentor is an old cultivated man who speaks a lot, and has a deep sensitivity to painting and writing, as well as a developed intuition

When the painter came back, he told us he found it amazing how we had suddenly appeared there, out of the blue, and behind the tone of his sentence we felt as though he had understood part of the importance of the role we were to play

The boyfriend came back too, and we discussed a bit in a group, as he politely asked us a few mundane questions

It was a weird discussion, as it seemed mundane in appearance, while deep things were happening

And Chantal told them that her grandfather had died one month before leaving her all his art belonging, including painting, brushes, canvases, and a press

And since she had no place where to put the press, she proposed to her painter’s twin to put it in the large workshop places he had

And while speaking of her grandfather she started crying, and of course everybody thought that she was sad because of his death

But in fact she cried because she felt so emotional of being close to her twin again

And he spontaneously hugged her when she cried

Then he insisted to offer her a small box of dried roses, to make in infusion, but she refused; regretting afterward as she would have liked to have something from him, but didn’t dare accepting the gift

They invited us for dinner but there were many other artists and conversations wouldn’t have been as free as before, and so we preferred leaving

We left and took the train, and we were split between euphoria and doubts; it was clear that something special was at play here

When I had sometimes doubted he was her twin flame, my doubts had been almost removed

He had looked at us in a way that seemed to tell us that he understood who we were, how interrelated we were

That he was in the company of his twin soul, Chantal, and his brother soul, me, as by that point Chantal and me had understood we were sister soul, or soulmates, these two souls that keep on reincarnating together life after life, and have known each others for thousands and thousands of years, and which are very complimentary, and can love each other of a deep love, and share a deep complicity

But at the same time, he had his own life, his boyfriend, his mentor, his artist friends, and was different from Chantal

There was a long, long way to go

In those days, the haze that had drowned our minds in grayness was starting to dissipate, and one morning I pressed Chantal to come on a run with me

At first it was hard, but after a few miles we started taking real pleasure in it, even if it was still February, there was an air of Spring and winged seeds delicately flied from shrubs along stairs while climbing toward Lausanne’s heights

We admired nature’s beauty which warmed our hearts and run and run, until we reached a small lake that is man deep at its deepest, and the lake was frozen still

In my enthusiasm I wanted to walk on it despite the signs asking not to

Chantal told me it was a bad idea, but I was stubborn, and when she saw the ice resisted, she followed me, and we started dancing on the ice and felt elated to be again in the open air

I proposed then to walk until the small island at fifty or a hundred meters, in the middle of the lake

We walked and slided toward there, and when we almost arrived the ice broke and we both fell into the freezing water, and we run to the island, entirely soaked, and we heard a roar, people were half-laughing, half-acclaiming us for daring to do what we had done

We looked stupid in our soaked clothes and shoes, prisoner of the island

We didn’t enjoy much our stay there as we were worried of coming back

And on our way to the beach the ice broke a second time just before reaching the pebbles, and we tasted the coldness of water a second time

And the ice hurt our hands slightly, and we both started bleeding

And as the two kids we are we mixed our bloods and declared between us a brotherhood of blood, as ancient Amerindians did

And we run toward my flat which was at half-an-hour, and exercise warmed us, and it was wonderful to shower in warm water and dry ourselves in a fresh towel

Falling into the lake had been exhilarating for us, it had awakened us from months of torpor

And the same night, my twin replied to the mail I had sent her one week before telling her all the story I’ve been telling you

She told me that she was still so afraid of me, especially because of my eerie timings and occurrences

I had written her the same day she had broken off with her latest boyfriend, and my opening sentence was

Remember when you are sad that there is someone thinking of you and crying for you somewhere in this world

She admitted to me she had uncovered a whole set of new fears within her

She never cried for herself; but she often cried for others, as though she looked for an occasion to commiserate and cry; but there was still a deep blockage within her

She was afraid of all what happened between us, of this fantasy, supernatural, miraculous relationship, and was not ready yet; and she didn’t like that side of her personality, she found it quite ugly to be so afraid

She told me of how her relationship with her family had evolved, growing closer from her stepmother; how her father still sheltered her too much, whenever she wanted to do something

And she sent me many of her writings she had written during the eight months of silence we had gone through

telling me that she had received many words of compliment and encouragement, but I was the only one who could offer her criticism and make her grow, hoping she would take it well

She told me she had received the watercolor Chantal sent her, founding it beautiful, a perfect rendering of the morning light over the lake and the mountains in Lausanne

An image of the new dawn that was shining over our relationship

And for the first time, I didn’t reply to her

A couple of days before, we had taken the decision to go find her in the Netherlands

It was Chantal’s idea, I was still a bit afraid

But it was necessary, absolutely vital, to see her again after two years and to confront her, to confront my own fears

She was participating in a fencing competition, and we would be there

Without telling her in advance of our plan, so that she couldn’t escape the awaited confrontation that would happen three weeks later

You can continue reading this story with the next chapter Mount Nederlands 

If you’re new here, you can start reading this story from the beginning with chapter 1 – The Dream, or the previous chapter Wintry Darkness

“Pollen” is a watercolor Chantal Peguiron and me painted together



About Erik Vincenti Zakhia

Dear all, I will share with you many of my poems, short stories, drawings and paintings telling of my journey of self-discovery and my reflections about life, love, art, spirituality, sexuality, kundalini rise, and twin flames. They all fall within the realm of Hazen. May you have an inspiring visit!


  1. Pingback: Reuniting with my twin flame – Wintry Darkness | Erik Vincenti Zakhia

  2. Pingback: Reuniting with my twin flame – Mount Nederlands | Erik Vincenti Zakhia

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