While chess became a serious part of my life, another journey was unfolding quietly in the background. I had begun meditating regularly. At first, it was simply a search for focus and inner peace. But over time, the experience became something far deeper. The more time I spent in silence, the more unusual things began to happen. Certain meditations felt intensely vivid. Images would appear with a clarity I could not explain. Some felt symbolic. Others felt strangely real.

The nights brought their own mysteries. I began having powerful dreams—dreams that stayed with me long after I woke up. In some, conversations unfolded as if they were taking place somewhere beyond the boundaries of ordinary sleep. People appeared, spoke, and disappeared, leaving behind questions I could not answer. I told very few people about these experiences, partly because I did not know how to explain them, and partly because I was still trying to understand them myself. While I continued studying chess, coaching students, and pursuing improvement on the board, another part of me was being drawn towards something invisible—something I could neither explain nor ignore.

Looking back, I realize those years were not about finding answers. They were about learning to live with questions.