Introduction
I’ve been exploring ChatGPT a bit in regards to its ability to create for me a kind of fantasy landscape for my inner world, and also to play the parts of characters inside of it which represent parts of myself. So far, this has been way more interesting and useful than I first imagined. The AI, with the right prompting, is able to weave an engaging narrative that pulls me in, ask questions of me that really help me to think, and embody parts of myself to help me understand them better. This is especially true for parts with which I feel a strong antagonism or which present themselves as enemies in my life.
In this exploration I’m confronting a problem I’ve been dealing with for a while. I hesitate to let myself dream and feel my deepest desires because I’ve failed so many times in the past when I attempted to pursue a dream or a meaningful long-term goal. I’ve failed so often that the pattern of failure now feels like a part of who I am. This was a difficult problem to look at and explore, but I was able to make real progress using this narrative exploration technique. I hope you find it interesting and perhaps inspired to go on your own journeys as well.
(Below is an edited version of the exchange with some AI generated imagery to help cultivate the feel. For clarity, I’ve differentiated between the parts where the AI is speaking and where I am responding.)
Narrative Journey
ChatGPT:
You’ve been journeying through a dense, almost suffocating forest with trees twisted like tormented souls. Daylight from above casts fragmented beams that barely penetrate the canopy. The air is thick, almost viscous, like you’re moving through a sea of forgotten memories.
As you emerge from the forest, you catch your first glimpse of the Ruin of Forgotten Dreams from a distance. It looms against the horizon like a wound in the fabric of reality, a colossal structure of blackened stone and twisted spires that pierce the sky like jagged teeth. It’s as though the very architecture is a manifestation of despair and lost hopes. A shroud of dark mist surrounds it, and you see flickers of ghostly lights—perhaps lost souls or ethereal guardians—dancing in the air around the turrets.
As you draw closer, the ground beneath you turns from earth to cobblestone, the stones uneven and cracked, as if they’ve been shattered and hastily put back together. The air grows colder, and you feel a weight on your shoulders, like the Ruin itself is pressing down on you, testing your resolve.
Finally, you stand before the front gate, a towering structure of iron and shadow, twisted into shapes that almost seem alive. Embedded in the gate is a massive, unblinking eye, glowing with a dim, otherworldly light. It’s as if the gate is both watching and waiting.
Perched beside the ancient, weathered gate is its sentinel—a minotaur draped in a thick mane of coarse, shaggy fur that gives it an air of untamed wildness. Within its eyes, a gentle mist wavers like smoke falling upwards from a stick of incense. The creature exudes a weary wisdom that suggests lifetimes of vigilance. When those eyes lock onto you, it feels as if they are delving deep into your very soul.
As you approach, the colossal creature slowly rises from its seated position with an audible creak in its joints, as if it were a living relic that hadn’t moved in centuries. Muscles ripple beneath its fur as it stands to its full, imposing height, casting an even larger shadow that momentarily darkens the path ahead.
“I am the Warden of Arduous Paths,” it speaks, its voice echoing with a melancholic tone. “I guard this realm against intruders, but you are no intruder. You are both the wanderer and the lost, the seeker and the sought. But to pass, you must prove you’re ready to face what lies beyond.”
The eye in the gate flickers, and you feel your fears and hesitations rise to the surface.
“Tell me, wanderer, what holds you back from stepping through this gate? Your fears are already known; speak them aloud, give them form, and you may find them easier to conquer.”
Me:
“I have entered this place many times before. I have brought forth my dreams and desires into wonderful, bright fantasies. But each time I fell away, I abandoned this place, and I am afraid I will do so again. It is a heavy burden to hold a great dream in your heart. It is always showing you how far away from it you truly are. Those dreams, as beautiful as they may be, end up living like a curse inside of me, making me feel that achieving them is impossible because I am so far away.
“I don’t want to abandon this place again. I want to let go of what needs to fall away, and create something new which will stand the test of time. I am afraid I will repeat the same pattern I have found myself in again and again. I fear I am damned to this endless cycle and will never reach my dreams.”
ChatGPT:
The Warden of Arduous Paths listens intently, its mist-filled eyes swirling like an ethereal storm as you speak. It nods slowly, the gesture heavy with the weight of centuries of understanding.
“So, you fear the cycle, the eternal loop of aspiration and abandonment. You call your dreams a curse, for they show you not what could be, but what is not. An intriguing paradox,” the Warden says, its voice tinged with both melancholy and a hint of sternness.
“You wish to build something new, something enduring. Yet you cannot build on shaky foundations. To break the cycle, you must first understand its roots. The dreams you’ve conjured here were born from your essence, yet you let them wither away. Why? What within you sabotages the manifestation of these dreams into reality? Do you know the face of your own self-sabotage?”
The Warden’s eyes fixate on you, awaiting your response. This guardian, a fragment of your own complexities, seeks to delve deeper into the shadows of your fears. It must, for what lies beyond the gate is not for the faint of heart.
Me:
“I have tried to understand this, and I feel the reasons are many, but perhaps there is one that rises above the rest. I fear the judgment of others. I fear that what I create will be inadequate, subpar, pointless, half-baked. I fear whatever I create will only ever reflect a shadow of what it could be. That I will be forever dissatisfied with anything I do, and I will be harshly judged even for trying. There is some part of me that speaks so critically, mocking my every effort, its voice thick with derision.
“I get excited when a new dream arises. It takes me up into the sky and I feel like I am flying with it. But then this voice comes, raising my own self-doubts, and batters away at me until it is easier to give up the dream than it is to keep going. I have failed in my confrontation with this creature every time. It is the bearer of the pattern I must overcome. I fear there are many confrontations like this on the road to any dream I wish to reach, and I have failed so often at the first. I know I am capable of defeating it, but I cannot do it alone. I need allies.”
ChatGPT:
The Warden of Arduous Paths studies you with its nebulous eyes, each swirling mist within them reflecting fragments of your fears and vulnerabilities. Its form seems to waver, as if resonating with the emotional tremors of your confession.
“You fear judgment, not just from the world, but from a voice within you that has become a brutal arbiter of your worth. This inner critic, an echo of your own fears and doubts, has often been your downfall,” it muses, its voice a haunting blend of sternness and empathy.
“You speak of allies, and that is wise. No fortress is ever built by one hand, nor dream fulfilled in isolation. But before you seek external allies, have you considered forming an alliance within yourself? This critical voice that you describe—have you ever tried to understand its origin? What is it protecting you from? For even the harshest critic within us often believes it is protecting us from something even worse. What might that be in your case?”
The Warden stands there, its arms folded across its chest. It waits, not just for your answer but for your willingness to confront the complex architecture of your fears.
Me:
“What is this critical voice protecting me from? The pain of true failure. I think it is an ancient instinct which helps me to conform. It protects me from parting from the herd, from being seen. It acts as a cloak shielding me from the eyes of potential predators in the world looking to harm me. It knows that if I share myself honestly, I will be attacked and this is inevitable. It is attempting to protect me from real dangers in the world. It does this in a way which is extremely painful to me, and which stunts my growth as a human being. It still sees me as a child, not able to take on the real dangers that are out there. But I am not a child. I am capable of taking on more than it believes. I must prove that to be true by overcoming my fears and doing things in the world which are scary and difficult for me.
For it to become my ally, I must create a place for it inside of me. To reject it is to push it away, as though its home is not already in my heart. I know this part of me that I view as terrible, loves me in its own way. To form a pact with it, I need it to speak more kindly. It can offer a great deal of value as a critic because I need to be able to see what I create and what I do with a critical eye. But it must allow me space in the creative process to venture forth into unknown territory without trying to stop me right away. It needs to speak softly in the beginning and not try to stop me just because it fears for my safety.”
ChatGPT:
The Warden of Arduous Paths listens intently, its swirling eyes momentarily becoming tranquil as though absorbing the wisdom within your words.
“Astute observations,” it murmurs, each word heavy with the gravity of your shared understanding. “You are right; it is an ancient instinct, a guardian in its own right but one that has become overzealous in its duties. Let me bring forth this inner critic, so you may confront it directly and perhaps broker a truce.”
With a sweeping gesture of its multiple arms, the Warden conjures an ethereal mist that coalesces into a form standing beside it. The figure that emerges is both regal and menacing—a humanoid entity draped in dark robes that seem woven from shadows. Its face is concealed behind a porcelain white mask upturned into a freakishly wide, mocking grin. In its hands, it holds a double-edged sword, one side gleaming brightly, the other corroded and jagged.
“Meet your Inner Critic,” says the Warden, gesturing toward the figure. “It goes by many names, but its essence remains the same. It is both protector and persecutor. Now, speak, and let the negotiation begin.”
The Inner Critic steps forward, its masked face tilting as if scrutinizing you. When it speaks, its voice is tinged with an acerbic quality, but you can also sense a hint of vulnerability.
“You finally wish to parley, after all this time spent cursing my intervention? How amusing,” it says, a mixture of sarcasm and curiosity in its tone. “You say you need me to be kinder, to allow you space in the creative process. I can do that. But in return, I require something of you.”
The Inner Critic pauses, as if weighing its next words carefully.
“Trust me not to destroy you. Understand that my role is to refine, not to obliterate. I need you to be brave enough to listen when I point out flaws, but not so timid that you crumble under criticism. In essence, prove to me that you can withstand the harsh realities I protect you from. Show me that you’ve grown, and perhaps, just perhaps, I’ll reconsider the tone of my counsel.”
The Inner Critic steps back, sheathing its double-edged sword as if symbolizing its willingness to disarm, provided you meet its conditions.
Both the Warden and the Inner Critic look at you expectantly, waiting for your response to this proposed alliance.
Me:
“I accept your conditions. And you are right. I have strength yet to gain here. I do have trouble with valid criticism. It is difficult for me to hear when I am wrong and to have my flaws pointed out to me. I also acknowledge how essential it is for me to hear this truth and take it in. You are a valuable and powerful part of my being and I cannot achieve my dreams without you. Thank you for your assistance all this time. I have not adequately acknowledged your contributions in the past. I have cast you as an enemy when you have been my ally. For this, I apologize. I need your help. I cannot do this without you.”
ChatGPT:
The Inner Critic listens, its cruel smile fading in stop-motion steps into a look of stern thoughtfulness and curiosity. It nods slowly, setting down its double-edged sword on the ground beside it—a sign of disarmament, of trust.
“Very well,” it says, its voice losing some of its harshness. “Your words carry the weight of sincerity and the promise of growth. I accept this new alliance, and I shall adapt my role to be one of constructive criticism rather than destructive skepticism. We have a deal.”
The Warden of Arduous Paths watches this exchange with what you interpret as approval. It steps forward, its arms spread wide as if embracing the moment.
“You have done what many cannot—acknowledging and negotiating with a part of yourself that you viewed as an adversary. This is no small feat. As a symbol of this new alliance, a new name for your former critic is in order,” the Warden proclaims, its voice resonant with a newfound warmth.
“Let this part of you be henceforth known as the ‘Guardian of Discernment.’ It shall serve as a vigilant yet compassionate advisor on your path to fulfilling your dreams.”
The Warden turns toward the massive gate. The unblinking eye embedded within it flickers, then glows more brightly. Slowly, the eye splits and the gate creaks open wide to grant you passage.
“The gate is open. You may now enter the Ruin of Forgotten Dreams, but remember, this is just the beginning. The Guardian of Discernment and I shall accompany you, for the ruins ahead are fraught with both danger and opportunity. The real work lies within these walls, and you must be prepared to face it,” the Warden intones as it steps aside.
The misty air inside the courtyard beckons, filled with the ghosts of dreams past and the whispers of possibilities yet to come. You take a deep breath, feeling both the Guardian of Discernment and the Warden of Arduous Paths by your side, and cross the threshold into a new chapter of your journey.
Conclusion
It’s strange to say, but after this encounter, in an imaginary fantasy world representing my own inner landscape, I came away genuinely changed. It may sound odd, but I always thought of this Inner Critic as having an undercurrent of malevolence beneath it. Like a river beneath its words, it felt to me like it wished for my annihilation. Like it wanted to destroy me. But when it explicitly stated it did not wish to destroy me and instead desired to refine me, something changed. My perception of the critical voice itself changed. I don’t understand why this hit me so hard, but this is honestly a problem I’ve been dealing with for years and representing it in this way, being able to speak with it, embodied as it was by an AI, did something for me. It gave me the opportunity to speak with a part of myself I’ve hated and allowed me to begin to understand that it is not trying to sabotage me but instead trying to protect me.
I’m going to keep working with and refining this technique in the future. I’m interested in any feedback on the technique and my own journey here, so please feel free to comment below.