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VISIONS OF A LOST AND FUTURE WORLD When an ancient American Indian shaman suddenly appears out of nowhere and starts telling me his story, trust me, I listen. At the time when this shaman suddenly appeared at my campsite, I was living rough in the mountains of northern California, was five months pregnant, and possessed only a ragged canvas tent, a funky old car and a dog named Elijah Kazoo. Over the course of the most memorable summer of my life, this shaman kept me company and told me his story, night after night. The shaman said that the story he told me was true. And it may well be -- or...