Why eyes
Luke still doesn't understand the principle behind this.
It was like why his eyes showed abnormalities after his spirits soared, and he couldn't explain it.
However, most hypnosis methods start with vision and hearing.
These two are the channels through which humans can most easily receive complete information, and most of our perception of the outside world also comes from these two methods.
So, perhaps this is why the eyes can activate the ability of telepathic communication.
In the future, he can try to use words, or a combination of words and eyes, to activate the ability of telepathic communication. This is all possible.
While pondering the ability she had just acquired, Selina suddenly whispered, "Here it comes."
Almost at the same time, Luke turned his attention to Chris beside him.
Her breathing suddenly became rapid, her heartbeat started to speed up, and her body began to tremble slightly.
Luke breathed a sigh of relief.
He was afraid that the guy could not only enter people's dreams, but also use these people's dreams to sense everything around them. Then his chances of success in waiting would be almost zero.
Now it seems that the opponent's abilities are not that exaggerated.
Of course, he did not rule out the possibility that this nightmare messenger was so skilled and bold that he had to show off in front of him.
Aren’t all villains like this
Luke stood up, walked over to Selina, and quickly typed a text on his phone.
After getting Selina's nod in response, he sat down on the sofa where Chris was lying, sat down next to her head, and put his hand on top of her head.
With his nascent telepathic communication ability, if he didn't use his eyes, he could only lock onto the target through physical contact.
Why choose Touding? Mainly because it is the most convenient place.
The feeling of pinching your neck is very weird. Your chest, lower abdomen, and thighs are all too sensitive, and your calves are even weirder than your neck.
Forget about the soles of the feet. Even though Chris doesn't have athlete's foot, he doesn't have the hobby of activating abilities by holding someone's soles.
Come on! Lady donor, let me bless your big head to ward off evil spirits!
Luke muttered some extremely unreliable lines in his mind and activated his telepathic communication ability.
System: You are trying to establish a connection with unknown negative spiritual energy. Do you want to connect
Luke chuckled in his heart: his guess was correct.
If the mountains don't come to him, he will go to the mountains.
If the other party chooses someone other than himself as the object of mental connection, then he can only take the initiative to connect with the other party.
When he was testing Bobby's telepathic communication ability, he also received a system link reminder.
The person he really needed help from was Chris. Compared to the invisible and intangible person in the nightmare, this beautiful girl was at his fingertips.
Chris naturally became the medium through which Luke saw the person in his nightmare.
Looking at the choice, he just pondered for a moment and chose yes.
In an instant, the dark world after closing his eyes was switched, and another world appeared before him.
This is still the living room of Chris's house, but it has become dilapidated and old.
There was a thin layer of turbid sewage on the ground, and the paint on the walls was mottled and peeling, revealing ugly yellow-brown water stains. Water droplets kept oozing out of them and dripping into the sewage on the ground, making a dripping sound.
Luke sighed, "This guy is a fucking genius! It's such a waste if he doesn't make horror movies."
The room was empty except for Luke standing there.
He did not act in a hurry, but tried to use his keen sense of smell. All he could smell was the rotten and old smell of the house and the foul odor of sewage.
There was no trace of Chrissy's scent at all.
Luke opened his eyes and chuckled, "Interesting. Fake ones look just like the real ones, but they're still fake."
If it were someone else, they might have been frightened by this situation.
But for him, an old detective, there were too many loopholes in this scene, so many that he could see them without even thinking.
So, this is not the real world.
He walked to the door and walked out through the open door.
Standing on the grass in front of the door, he looked up. In the dark sky without a trace of light, little granular snowflakes were slowly falling, and a light layer of floating snow had accumulated on the ground.
Luke squatted down and grabbed a handful of floating snow on the ground in his hands, only to find that the snowflakes were very real.
The only unreal thing is that the snowflake will not melt. It will remain in his hand, cold and icy.
Throwing away the real yet fake snowflakes, he looked at the ground beneath the floating snow.
It was not grass, but dark black mud.
He stood up and stomped his foot down hard.
Looking at the deep footprints on the mud, he raised his eyebrows: "This is also very real."
Casually shaking off the black mud on his shoes, he walked out of the snow in front of the house and onto the street.
The streets were still covered in snow, with only a dim street lamp every few dozen meters, vaguely illuminating a small area of the road below.
The streets were cut into fragments of darkness and dimness, like passages floating between the underworld and the world of the living.
Looking around, Luke saw a vague figure several dozen meters away, moving forward step by step.
That's Chrissy.
She was still wearing the low-cut V-neck T-shirt and a pair of light blue boxer shorts, which were her pajamas.
The cold snowflakes fell on her, and her bare feet stepped on the snow, but she seemed to feel nothing, and just walked forward dully.
Her feet walked on the snow, leaving a trail of footprints, but these footprints were the size of a five or six-year-old child's feet.
Luke looked at her silently, without calling her, but followed her slowly.
Chris in front suddenly stopped, turned around and looked at the roadside.
On the side of the road, on an upright wooden stake, an old iron nameplate hangs there quietly.
She reached out her hand and brushed away the snow and dust.
A name came out: Badham Infant School.
Chris put her hands down and, as if sleepwalking, approached the house behind the nameplate.
"Hello! Little Chris!" A low, hoarse voice sounded behind her, and she turned back in shock.
A figure stood there: "Oh, you have grown up." The voice was full of memories.
Chris stared at him and muttered through gritted teeth: "You're just a nightmare!"
"Don't you remember me?" A figure slowly approached, his face hidden in the backlight, just a dark mass.
"Who are you?" Chris stepped back, trying to keep a distance from the figure.
The figure walked slowly forward, "No, you must remember that you are my favorite... Well, okay, you are only my second favorite! My little Chris."
Chris stepped back again and again, but her back was pressed against a wall. She couldn't help but close her eyes, but opened them immediately.
Suddenly, a warm and gentle male voice suddenly came to her mind: "Watch his movements and his behavior carefully, and try to remember them."