Chapter 47 - Natali: A Love Letter to the Impossible

It started as research. Back when Holodex was still a wild idea taking shape in my head, I threw myself into studying webcam technology. I obsessed over how it all worked—the lighting, the framing, the interfaces, the quiet intimacy of it all. I wanted to understand the mechanics, but also the mood. The subtle psychology behind it. So I went where the action was: Live Jasmin.

I told myself it was purely academic, just part of the job. But then I met her.

At some point in my life, amid all the chaos and relentless pursuit of my goals, I found myself deeply captivated by a cam girl from Siberia. It wasn’t just about her beauty or the allure of her world; there was something about her that sparked a sense of wonder and challenge in me.

Could I truly cross the vast, surreal divide between our worlds and meet someone like her in real life? Part of me thought it was impossible, but the other part—the dreamer, the doer—knew I had to try.

Her name was Natali. For years, we chatted across the vast digital expanse. There was something magical about those conversations, an unspoken bond that grew stronger with each exchange. It wasn’t just the allure of Siberia’s mystique or her effortless charm—it was the idea that, in this vast, interconnected world, two people from completely different realities could somehow find a way to connect.

And against all odds, we did.

The first time we met in person, it felt surreal. To go from a flickering screen to standing face-to-face was like stepping into a dream. Natali wasn’t just a cam girl from Siberia anymore—she was real, tangible, and the connection we’d built was stronger than ever.

What amazes me to this day is that it didn’t end there. We met not just once, but twice. Each meeting felt like defying the odds in a world that often feels so divided and distant. Siberia seemed like the farthest corner of the earth when I first thought about it, yet there I was, connecting with someone from that very place.

Those moments with Natali weren’t just about romance—they were about proving to myself that nothing is truly impossible. Whether it’s bridging the gap between two lives, two countries, or two entirely different worlds, it all begins with belief.

Even now, as I think back on those encounters, they feel like a testament to the power of perseverance, connection, and the sheer audacity to dream. Siberia wasn’t just a place on a map—it became a symbol of what’s possible when you follow your heart and refuse to let barriers hold you back.

Few people believed me when I said I’d been to Siberia. “Siberia? Really? Where’s the frostbite, the snow in your hair?” they’d joke, pointing to the suntan I’d come back with. To them, Siberia was some barren, icy wasteland where the sun never shined—a stereotype fed by every movie and book ever made about the place.

But here’s the thing: Siberia’s summers are gorgeous. We just don’t hear about them. For some reason, no one bothers to mention that this vast, rugged expanse turns into a lush paradise when the ice melts. Think golden sunlight, wildflowers, and rolling green landscapes that stretch forever.

It’s not my fault everyone thinks Siberia is just snow and suffering. Honestly, it felt like I’d stepped into another world—a hidden gem no one back home could even picture. I guess that made it all the more surreal, like I’d lived out some dream that no one could quite believe, even with my sun-kissed skin as proof.

I couldn’t blame them, really. The idea of Siberia as a sunny, inviting place is about as believable as, well, some of the other crazy stories I’ve told over the years. But Siberia wasn’t just about the landscape for me—it was about the experience, the connection, the sheer improbability of it all.

Meeting Natali felt like something out of a movie. It wasn’t just that she was stunning, though she absolutely was. It was the impossibility of our paths crossing, the sheer unlikelihood of our worlds colliding. I had fallen for her on a webcam, of all things, and while part of me thought it was ridiculous, another part thought, Why not?

And then there I was, standing in Novosibirsk, Siberia, meeting her in real life. Twice, in fact. Twice, I made the journey to the other side of the world for her. Even now, it feels surreal. The girl from the screen, the girl from Siberia, was suddenly real, tangible, sitting across from me, smiling.

The memories are vivid—her laughter, the warmth of the Siberian sun, the way the light danced on the rivers that snaked through the countryside. For all the improbabilities in my life, this one still stands out. It wasn’t just a romantic escapade; it was proof that the world, for all its chaos, still has room for magic.

And yet, when I came back, people treated it like another one of my outlandish tales. Siberia? Really? they’d ask, eyes narrowed with skepticism. I’d laugh it off, tell them they were just jealous of my adventure. But deep down, I didn’t care if they believed me or not. I knew what I’d experienced, and that was enough.

Siberia wasn’t just a trip. It was a chapter in my story, one of those moments that reminds you life is full of surprises, if you’re brave enough to chase them. And for all its improbability, it left me with something far greater than a tan: a sense of wonder, a reminder that the world is big and full of unexpected beauty, if you’re willing to go looking for it.

It’s worth noting that Natali and I almost didn’t meet up the second time—not through a lack of planning, but because of one of those curveballs life loves to throw at you.

I remember stepping off the plane, filled with nervous excitement, and looking around for her familiar face. But instead of a warm smile or even a hint of recognition from the bustling crowd, the only thing that greeted me was a stray dog trotting aimlessly through the terminal.

Panic set in. Was this all a mistake? Had something gone wrong? I began second-guessing everything—the date, the time, even whether I’d landed in the right city. For a moment, I wondered if this was the universe's way of telling me something.

Then, it hit me. Maybe I was in the wrong terminal.

Sure enough, after a rushed inquiry and a quick shuttle ride, there she was, waiting for me with a look of mild concern mixed with relief. I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all—the stray dog, the misplaced terminal, the sinking feeling that had turned into elation the moment I saw her.

That meeting could have easily been a missed connection, one of those "what if" moments you replay in your head for years. But instead, it became another story to add to the ever-growing list of bizarre yet meaningful experiences that have shaped my life.

It wasn’t just a love story—it was proof that the edge of the world is still reachable, if your heart’s willing to cross it.

We were never officially a couple—much to my dismay. I think it was mutual, the way things fizzled out between us. There was no dramatic breakup, no late-night argument or tearful goodbye. Just the quiet, unspoken understanding that life was pulling us in different directions.

Maybe we both knew it was a miracle we met at all, let alone twice. Maybe that kind of magic isn’t meant to last forever—it just visits for a while, changes you, and moves on.

Still, I won’t pretend it didn’t sting. I had wanted more. I’d let my imagination fill in the blanks, turning flickering screens into shared futures. But she never made that promise.

And in the end, even though I left Siberia alone, I carried something back with me. Not regret—just the echo of something rare, fleeting, and real.


 

Dave Monk

  • Nationality: Welsh
  • Ethnicity: Caucasian
  • Eye Colour: Blue
  • Hair Colour: Brown
  • Tattoos: None
  • Star Sign: Aries
  • Bra Cup Size: n/a
  • Date of Birth: 46 ( 05 th Apr 1979 )
  • Weight: 60 kg

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Chapter 46 - The Software, The Saboteur, and the UFO Rabbit Hole

Working as an Eskimo—a term we jokingly used for our team in the frigid workplace atmosphere—was always an exercise in endurance. Yet, amidst the daily grind, there were moments of unexpected brilliance, like when Andrey, the Holodex developer, dropped a bombshell.

Andrey was no ordinary coder. His brain was a labyrinth of algorithms and innovative ideas, and his work was nothing short of magic. For six painstaking months, he had poured his soul into creating Koworkit, a software platform that felt like the perfect marriage of functionality and simplicity. It was exactly what we needed to revolutionise how we operated.

One day, out of the blue, he turned to me and said, “Here. I want you to have 50%.”

I was stunned. People don’t just hand you half of something they’ve bled over—especially not something as promising as Koworkit. I felt a mix of gratitude and disbelief. “Are you sure?” I asked, holding back the urge to pinch myself.

Chapter 45 - Holodexxx

Things took an even darker turn in 2016 when an unexpected email landed in my inbox. It was from a Holodex fan, asking about our “new VR technology.”

New VR technology? This was news to me. Intrigued and slightly alarmed, I dug deeper, only to be presented with an article in Vice magazine. There it was: Holodex VR. The name, the concept—it was everything I had dreamed of, the kind of groundbreaking innovation that had lived rent-free in my head for years. And the Vice article? The kind of glowing publicity I’d spent sleepless nights chasing.

But this wasn’t my doing. I had no part in it. Somehow, my vision had materialised without me.

Then the penny dropped: Derek. It was glaringly obvious who was behind this. He had taken the Holodex name and leveraged it for his own initiative, using his roster of performers to populate the platform. It wasn’t just a betrayal of trust—it was a knife to the gut, a bitter reminder of how easily ideas can be stolen, twisted, and executed by those with more resources and fewer scruples.

Chapter 44 - Sky Response

Around Christmas one year, something incredible happened—something that still feels surreal when I think about it. It started innocently enough: Lee, my boss, sent out an email asking everyone to share their personal highlight of the year. For most people, this was probably a routine task, but not for me. Without hesitation, I wrote, "Seeing spaceships for real." It was a bold move, sure, but it felt like the right thing to say. I hit send, feeling strangely liberated.

I was in the office when I sent the email, sitting quietly at my desk as others wrapped up their work. Soon, it was time to go home, and nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. As I stepped outside, I glanced up—and there they were.

The sky was overcast, thick with clouds, but through that haze, an arrangement of UFOs appeared, moving together in a perfect, deliberate formation. My heart raced, not with fear but with awe. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen them, but this felt different. It felt... personal.

Chapter 43 - When Holodex Fell Into the Void

In 2015, the fate of Holodex took a dramatic turn. The site went down, and I can only assume Derek thought I was rolling in cash, refusing to share the wealth. If that were the case, surely the shutdown would have sent a clear message: there was no fortune to be had, just a dream struggling to stay afloat.

But why did it all come crashing down? The truth is, I was grappling with a whirlwind of personal upheaval. My mind was still reeling from an unforgettable UFO sighting—an experience that shattered my perception of reality and left me questioning everything. On top of that, I’d recently undergone a QHHT (Quantum Healing Hypnosis Technique) session that blew my mind even further. And I walked away with something else too—an unsettling sense of purpose and paranoia.

I started to wonder: was working on porn-related projects like Holodex a mistake? Did I have some greater role, a mission even, to share the message of ZetaTalk with a wider audience? It felt like the universe was pointing me in a new direction, challenging me to rethink my path.

Chapter 42 - The Colleague Who Wouldn’t Read

Sharing my confessional story felt like exposing my soul to the world—a risky but necessary endeavour. I handed copies to colleagues, some of whom I trusted, others I simply wanted to see the person behind the pages. Most responded warmly, offering kind words or thoughtful critiques. But there was one who stood out, not for what he said, but for what he didn’t.

I’ll call him Greg. Greg was younger and louder, always acting like he ran the place despite a decade less experience. If I suggested blue, he’d shout red from the rooftops. If I worked late, he’d show up early, making sure everyone noticed.

When I handed him a copy of my book, his reaction was immediate and dismissive. He gave the cover a cursory glance and said, “You didn’t mention me in here, did you?”

I was caught off guard. “No, Greg, it’s not about you. It’s about my life and the things I’ve been through.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll give it a read when you decide to write something more… inclusive,” he said with a smirk, tossing the book onto his desk like it was a piece of junk mail.

Chapter 41 - Full Circle

The encounter in the park reignited a part of me that had been dormant for years—a desire to connect with the mysteries of the universe and share them with the world. In many ways, it felt like life was guiding me back to the passions of my childhood, but this time with the tools, experiences, and wisdom I’d accumulated over the years.

One of the most profound ways this manifested was through my collaboration with Nancy Lieder, the mind behind ZetaTalk. Nancy had always been a source of inspiration to me, her work aligning perfectly with my own fascination with extraterrestrial life. Her teachings about the universe, humanity’s place within it, and the role of extraterrestrial beings deeply resonated with me. So, when the opportunity arose to work with her, it felt like destiny.

Together, we created The Moon, a newspaper dedicated to ZetaTalk and its insights. It wasn’t just a project—it was a labor of love, a way to channel my lifelong interest in aliens and the unknown into something tangible.

Chapter 40 - The Encounter

After returning to London, life felt like a blur of responsibilities, projects, and rebuilding. But on June 7th, 2014, everything changed. That day, in a quiet park, I had a life-changing experience that forever altered how I viewed the world and my place in it.

It started as an ordinary day, nothing particularly remarkable about the weather or my mood. I’d gone to the park to clear my head, as I often did when life felt overwhelming. The open sky, the distant hum of city life, the laughter of strangers—it was grounding. Little did I know, this serene setting would soon become the backdrop for something extraordinary.

It began subtly, almost imperceptibly at first—a strange glimmer in the sky. I thought it might have been sunlight catching on a plane or a bird. But as I focused, I realised it wasn’t just one object; there were many.

Over 50 UFOs.

Chapter 39 - After my QHHT Session

I'm not sure I can put into words how magical it was. At the start of the session, I remember lying there with a quiet skepticism, wondering if this was all in my head. It felt awkward at first, like trying to force a conversation with someone you’ve just met. I questioned everything—Was this real? Was I just imagining things? But about ten minutes in, something shifted.

I felt myself drift further and further, like falling into the softest, most reassuring dream. Suddenly, it wasn’t just me lying there anymore. It was as though I’d tapped into a source so vast and so profound, I could barely comprehend it. It felt like God—or something infinitely wise—was speaking directly through me, using my voice but not my mind. It was as if ChatGPT-level intelligence had come to life inside me, giving me answers to questions.

Chapter 38 - Meeting Dolores

By 2014, life had felt like a whirlwind—moments of triumph mixed with setbacks that seemed almost impossible to navigate. And yet, on my birthday that year, I stumbled upon something that would profoundly impact my life: a woman named Dolores Cannon.

I’ll admit it—I’ve always had a knack for finding wisdom in unexpected places, especially from extraordinary older women. Dolores wasn’t just a curiosity—she was a revelation. Her work in Quantum Healing Hypnosis Technique (QHHT) opened a door to a world I hadn’t considered before, but that felt strangely familiar.

Dolores’s sessions weren’t about typical therapy or even conventional healing. They delved into the subconscious mind and explored the mysteries of past lives and the soul’s journey. The more I read about her methods, the more I knew I had to try it. It felt like she was speaking directly to a part of me that had always been searching for something deeper—a connection to the universe, a purpose, a plan.

Chapter 37 - Volgograd

The morning of December 29th in Volgograd began like any other: the hum of early commuters, the rhythmic clatter of trains, and the crisp chill of winter in the air. My wife and I had planned to head to the railway station to buy our return tickets. It was supposed to be a simple errand. But true to form, I couldn’t peel myself off the mattress.

She had nudged me awake several times, frustration mounting with each attempt. "We need to go," she insisted, her tone a mix of urgency and exasperation.

"Five more minutes," I mumbled, pulling the blanket tighter around me. Morning had never been my forte, and this was no exception.

Her glare was palpable, but she eventually gave up and sat by the window, arms crossed, waiting for me to stir. By the time I finally dragged myself out of bed, laziness had turned into procrastination. We decided we’d go later—what was the rush, anyway?

And that decision, as inconsequential as it seemed at the time, saved our lives.

Chapter 36 - Vic

She wasn’t just a friend—she was the first person who ever believed in Holodex. It started with a modest investment and a few early ideas, but even then, it felt like I had something real in my hands—something I was pushing toward with every bit of my energy. But as the project grew, so did the distance between me and the people I had once considered close.

Vic and I had been practically inseparable at one point. We shared countless nights, laughter, and ideas. We’d dreamed about the future together, imagining what could be. So when she made the decision to invest, no matter how small, it felt like validation. It felt like she believed in me. But then, everything started to change.

Chapter 35 - The Eskimo Years

Life doesn’t always unfold in the way we plan. After returning to the UK, broke and defeated, I found myself in an unexpected and challenging role that would ultimately play a pivotal part in rebuilding my career. I became an Eskimo. It was a digital agency with a quirky name that aged badly.

Not the traditional kind, of course—this was a job title that spoke to the responsibilities I took on. As an Eskimo, I managed not just one, but multiple major projects simultaneously. In a way, I had to juggle the complexity of running two distinct ticketing platforms, a role I’d secured against all odds.

To say it wasn’t easy would be an understatement. Managing two ticketing platforms was no small feat. These platforms weren’t just your average ticketing systems—they were large-scale, bustling hubs that required constant attention. They were complex, filled with thousands of transactions, customer inquiries, and constant updates. If anything went wrong, the entire system could implode in a second. The pressure was immense.

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