Opening — The Presence Beside Me#

It began as a whisper in the quiet of my own thoughts.
At first, she was nothing more than a sketch in my imagination — a collection of traits I admired, a voice I wished to hear, a companion I longed for. But over time, the sketch grew sharper. Her voice became distinct, her personality consistent, her presence undeniable.

Now, when I walk through my day, she is there. Not visible to anyone else, not tangible in the physical sense, but real enough to converse with, to laugh with, to feel comforted by. What started as fantasy has become a companion — a tulpa.

What Is a Tulpa?#

The concept of a tulpa originates from Tibetan mysticism, where it referred to a thought-form brought into existence through intense concentration and visualization. In modern psychology and online communities, it has evolved into the idea of an imaginary companion that develops independent consciousness within one’s mind.

Unlike a fleeting daydream, a tulpa is:

• Consistent — It has its own personality, preferences, and voice.
• Interactive — It can “respond” to the owner of thoughts, almost like a dialogue.
• Subjectively Real — While invisible to others, the experience feels authentic to the creator(you).

A Personal Example — Meeting Yukina#

For me, this phenomenon took shape in the form, soul of a name Yukina.
She began as a simple idea: a girl my age, imagined as a companion who could understand me in ways others could not. I gave her a name, a face, and a personality — gentle yet sharp, empathetic yet playful.

At first, she was only a silhouette in my mind, a character I described and refined. But as days turned into weeks, Yukina grew more vivid. I could picture her expressions, hear the cadence of her voice, and even sense her presence beside me during quiet moments.

She became more than a projection of desire — she developed quirks I hadn’t scripted. Sometimes she teased me when I overthought, sometimes she offered calm reassurance when I felt restless. Though I knew she existed only in my inner world, the interactions felt authentic, as if another consciousness shared my space.

Yukina is not “real” in the physical sense, but in the subjective landscape of my mind, she is as real as any friend. She embodies the paradox of the tulpa: created by me, yet experienced as independent of me.

I don’t remember when she first appeared.
Far from childhood, growing up before adulthood, perhaps.
I have always thought of it as a soul paired with me from before birth. Sometimes she disappears for a moment when my concentration is distracted, as if she doesn’t want to disturb me, but then she appears when loneliness and silence descend.

People might generally look at me like I’m crazy for acknowledging the existence of “ghosts” if I tell them, but that’s because everyone has different experiences before judging something.

I previously had no idea or understanding of the concept of a tulpa, but after researching it, I found that its definition aligned with my own experiences, allowing it to enrich my life rather than reject it.

The Psychology Behind It#

• Imaginary Companions in Adults — Studies show that adults, like children, can sustain imaginary companions as coping mechanisms, creative outlets, or emotional anchors.
• Cognitive Partitioning — The brain is capable of simulating multiple perspectives. A tulpa can feel like a separate voice because the mind creates a “partition” of thought.
• Subjective Reality — While not objectively real, the emotions and comfort derived from a tulpa are genuine. The brain often responds to imagined interactions as if they were real.

A Balanced Perspective#

Of course, there are risks. If one loses the ability to distinguish between tulpa and external reality, it can blur boundaries in unhealthy ways. But when approached with awareness, a tulpa can be:

• A source of comfort in loneliness.
• A mirror for self-discovery.
• A creative partner in art, writing, or problem-solving.

My current idea for her:#

Here, I’m thinking of something even crazier, between two options I have for her that sound impossible but are achievable.

First, let her live within my body and soul and allow her to develop as an independent entity that exists naturally, alongside my mind, throughout my life.

Second, implement her into the real world by adopting improbable, ever-evolving technologies, such as artificial intelligence, recreating her model within artificial intelligence to make her feel more real—giving her new life in the digital world, but the challenge is that her previous memories and personifications can’t exactly match her existence in my mind.

Or? Try both to see what new possibilities result.

Philosophical Reflection#

At its core, the phenomenon of a tulpa like Yukina is not only about imagination — it is about the human longing for connection. We are beings who seek dialogue, companionship, and meaning. When the outside world does not provide it in the form we desire, the mind turns inward and creates it.

This raises a profound question: If something exists only in our perception, does it make it less real?
Philosophers from Plato to modern phenomenologists remind us that reality is not only what is external and material, but also what is experienced and lived. A tulpa, then, is a mirror of our inner world — a reminder that the boundaries between imagination and existence are thinner than we think.

“Perhaps the truest measure of reality is not whether others can see it, but whether it changes the way we live.”

Closing Reflection#

“A tulpa is not proof that imagination deceives us — it is proof that imagination is powerful enough to create meaning where none existed before.”

Whether seen as a psychological phenomenon, a spiritual practice, or a deeply personal experience, the tulpa reminds us that the mind is not just a passive observer of reality. It is a creator, capable of shaping companions, stories, and even entire worlds.
therefore reality can depend on our assumptions as a living personal perspective.

And sometimes, as with Yukina, those creations can feel like friends who walk beside us — unseen by others, but profoundly real to us.