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Dream Healer, Blue Jacket, Galivants Ferry, SC (2025)

11/19/2025

Escaping the Old Me 🌑🚗✨

Dream 💭
I’m back at my childhood home, rushing to get ready for school. I’m already late, and every part of me does not want to go. As soon as I step outside, a group of people comes toward me, trying to hold me captive. My heart drops.

Someone accidentally tosses my keys, and they land right at my feet. I grab them, jump into my little kiddie Jeep, and take off. It’s barely moving — creeping down the dark road — but I’m determined. I make it to the open field down the street and camouflage myself in the shadows.

They walk through the field searching… then stop when they find a man who’s been dead for two hours. They look around, then keep moving.

I stay hidden.
I don’t get caught.

———

Message 🕊️
This dream felt like my younger self trying to show me something — the part of me that used to wake up already overwhelmed, already feeling behind, already carrying weight that wasn’t mine.

Going back to my childhood home is always a sign that I’m revisiting old wounds or old versions of myself. Being “late for school” is that pressure I grew up with — feeling unprepared, unsupported, or pushed into situations I didn’t feel ready for.

The people trying to hold me captive represent those old patterns, old fears, old environments that used to trap me emotionally. But the wild part? My keys were thrown right to me. My escape literally landed in my hands. That’s my spirit showing me:
I already have the tools to free myself.

Driving the kiddie Jeep — slow, small, but still moving — is me acknowledging that healing isn’t always fast. Sometimes it’s inching forward, little by little, even when it’s dark and scary. But I still made it out. I still found a safe place to hide and breathe.

And the part where they found someone else who had been “dead for two hours”?
That’s symbolic of the old version of me — the part that didn’t stand up for herself, didn’t fight back, didn’t know her power.
That version is gone.

And I wasn’t caught because I’m not meant to go back to who I was.

I’m not running from danger anymore — I’m running toward my freedom.

———

11/18/2025

Lost & Found in the Past 🐾

Dream 💭
I’m back in my childhood home, wandering the old neighborhood like muscle memory brought me there. When I turn around, my parents are following me, telling me my dog got loose — but Buddy passed away five years ago.

That’s when I look down and realize I’m not wearing any pants. I try covering myself with my T-shirt, suddenly aware of how exposed I feel. I look around for help but notice I don’t have my glasses on… everything is blurry, confusing.

So I go back to the house, and there Buddy is — alive, waiting for me like he never left. As I walk through the hallway, I notice dog f***s on the floor. I grab some toilet paper and start cleaning it up, doing what needs to be done, even though none of it makes sense.

Message 🕊️
This dream feels like a walk through the parts of myself I’ve been trying to understand and heal. Being back in my childhood home shows me I’m revisiting old emotions — the ones I didn’t fully process back then.

When my parents tell me Buddy got loose, even though he’s been gone for years, it represents the pieces of my heart I thought I’d buried… grief, loyalty, innocence, the pure love he gave me. Seeing him alive again is my soul reminding me that nothing I’ve loved is ever truly gone — it just shifts forms.

Being suddenly aware that I’m not wearing pants, and realizing I can’t see clearly without my glasses, reflects how vulnerable I feel when I revisit the old versions of myself. It’s the sensation of being exposed, unprepared, and unsure of what’s coming next.

Walking back inside and finding Buddy waiting for me is comfort — the reminder that even when life feels blurry, there’s still love, loyalty, and pieces of my past that show up to guide me.

And the moment I’m picking up messes on the floor… that’s me facing the emotional “clean-up” I’ve avoided. The things from childhood I had to handle alone. The things I’m still learning to sort through now.

This dream is my heart saying:
“You’re revisiting old wounds so you can finally see them clearly…
and clean them up with compassion instead of shame.”

11/15/2025

Riding the Waves That Once Drowned Me 🌊

Dream 💭
Me and my youngest were hanging out near the beach when suddenly the water came rushing in. We jumped onto a pirate ship and rode the wave like it was nothing. But out of nowhere, the ship flipped — and I watched my daughter fly out. I caught her the second she hit the water, grabbing her before the current could pull her under.

Message 🕊️
This dream wasn’t random — it was my heart processing the five days my wife was gone and everything I held together while my youngest and I battled separation anxiety. 💔🤍

🌅 The Beach
Where my emotions felt exposed — me trying to stay strong for my girls.
🌊 The Water Rushing In
That wave of anxiety that hit me and my youngest at the same time… sudden and overwhelming.
🏴‍☠️ The Pirate Ship
Me trying to stay brave, keep us afloat, keep smiling… even while I was hurting too.
⚠️ The Ship Flipping
The moment everything felt too heavy — like I was losing control of the emotions, the household, the waiting.
💨 Watching Her Fall
My youngest missing Mama Cait, crying at night, her anxiety mirroring mine… showing up as her falling from the ship.
🤲💛 Catching Her Before the Current Took Her
This was me showing up.
Me being the mother I needed growing up.
Me grabbing her before the pain pulled her under.
🌬️ The Current
The old wounds — abandonment, fear, panic — trying to drag us back into places I’ve fought so hard to heal.

But I caught her. ✨
I’m breaking the cycle.
Parenting differently.
Stopping the pattern before it repeats.
I saved her from the same emotional drowning I once lived through. 💙

11/14/2025

Bare Truths Uncovered

Dream 💭
I’m at work, taking orders in the back like any normal day, when suddenly I’m told to go out front. I step through the doorway and freeze — I’m completely naked. No clothes, no protection, just me. I’m walking with my hands covering my lady parts, trying to make myself as small as possible. Faces turn. I keep moving anyway. That’s all I remember… but the feeling stayed with me — raw, exposed, and strangely honest.

⸻

Message 🕊️
This dream is really about vulnerability — the parts of myself I try to hide finally being seen. Walking out front naked symbolizes being pushed out of my comfort zone, even when I don’t feel ready. It’s my subconscious reminding me that healing isn’t about being perfect… it’s about being real.

I’ve been showing more of my truth lately — who I am, what hurts, what I’m learning — and sometimes it feels exactly like this dream: exposed, uncomfortable, but necessary.

Being “naked” wasn’t about shame… it was about honesty. And honestly? I’m learning to stop hiding from myself.

⸻

11/13/2025

Old Accounts, New Identity 💻

Dream 💭
In my dream, I was taking a ServSafe test, but I didn’t realize I was logged into my old Ho***rs account. I got pretty far into the test before my wife looked at me and said, “Shouldn’t this be under the pizzeria?”
I remember not wanting to change it because I had already made it so far with the login I was using.

Meaning 🕊️✨
This dream felt like a huge message about my identity — the parts of me still tied to old versions of myself, and the version I’m actively growing into now.

Taking the ServSafe test in the dream felt like a spiritual check-in, almost like my soul was making sure I’m ready for the next chapter. ServSafe is all about safety, responsibility, and being qualified… so it really felt like my subconscious was asking me:
“Am I ready to handle the next level of my life with more awareness and maturity?”

But instead of being logged into the pizzeria — my current job, my current life, the version of me that exists today — I somehow ended up taking the whole test under my old Ho***rs account. That old login represents an older identity, old patterns, old habits that don’t fit who I am anymore… yet they still pop up when I’m trying to grow.

And the most important part?
My wife was right there beside me the whole time, helping me realize what was happening. Her noticing that I was logged into the wrong account shows how deeply she’s part of my healing and how she gently guides me back to who I’m becoming. She helps me see the difference between my old self and the version of me that’s finally stepping into something healthier and more aligned.

It also shows that even when I slip back into old emotional patterns — especially abandonment triggers, guilt, or those little wounds that still whisper — she’s right there, grounding me, helping me “log back in” to the woman I am now.

Spiritually, the dream felt like a confirmation:
I’m passing the test. I’m choosing the present me.
And my wife is one of the biggest grounding forces in my life, helping me stay aligned with the life I’ve built — not the life I left behind.

11/12/2025

Reunion of the Self 🪞

Dream 💭
I’m at a resort with my family, my sister’s family, and a few friends who pop up unexpectedly. I keep trying to relax and enjoy myself, but I keep forgetting things — walking back and forth to the room again and again.
As I wander, I start noticing faces from my senior class. It hits me — this must be a reunion.
By the time night falls, I find a seat at a table surrounded by a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces. My sister is gathering gift bags and presents, and when I ask if it’s someone’s birthday, I learn it’s my friend Sam’s.
Great — I forgot a gift. But then I remember I brought cookies with whipped cream. I smile as a group of guys I know walks in, high-fiving each one as they pass. The energy feels nostalgic — like the past and present are crossing paths.

⸻

Message 🕊️
This dream feels like a reflection of where I am in my healing — between worlds of who I was and who I’m becoming.

🏝️ The resort represents a temporary place of rest and renewal — a reminder to slow down and truly be in the moment instead of walking back and forth between mental “rooms” of the past and present.

👨‍👩‍👧‍👧 Family and friends symbolize support systems and different versions of me reflected through relationships. Some people show up unexpectedly because healing often brings old connections or memories to the surface when I least expect it.

🎓 The high school reunion mirrors reflection — revisiting old versions of myself, checking in with who I used to be, and realizing how far I’ve come. It’s nostalgia with purpose — the past coming to say, “Look how much you’ve grown.”

🎁 The birthday is rebirth energy — the celebration of new beginnings. My friend’s birthday could represent the parts of myself that are being reborn, even if I feel “unprepared.” Forgetting a gift shows I’m learning that presence — not perfection — is the real offering.

🍪 Cookies with whipped cream represent sweetness and softness — the simple joys and emotional nourishment I can offer others (and myself). Even when I think I’ve “forgotten something,” I still bring love and light.

🙌 The high-fives symbolize reconnection, confidence, and acknowledgment — greeting old energies without fear. I’m no longer hiding from who I used to be; I’m embracing it, celebrating it, and integrating it.

✨
This dream reminds me that healing doesn’t mean starting over — it means returning to the parts of me I once left behind, offering them sweetness, and allowing them to sit with me at the table again.

11/12/2025

Your Beliefs Are Mine: Part I — The Woman Who Stays 💙💚❤💛🤍

While my wife’s away,
I’ve been sitting with my triggers — noticing old wounds, patterns, and fears that no longer serve me.
It’s wild how healing shows up in the quiet moments… how distance can bring clarity.

I’m realizing love doesn’t have to mean panic, silence doesn’t have to mean danger, and space doesn’t have to mean loss.
Sometimes, it just means growth. 🌙

11/07/2025

The Long Ride 🚲

Dream 💭
I’m riding my bike on my way to school — it’s a long ride, but I manage. I’m actually enjoying it, gliding up and down sidewalks, dodging cars, stopping at a gas station to say hi to a coworker. There’s a sense of independence, a bit of adventure.

When I reach the high school, the principal greets me — except it’s my old manager. He smiles and says I’m too pretty to stand in one line and moves me to another — the line for the bike rack. I hand him my bike and wander off, eventually finding a couch to rest on.

I take my camera off my neck, set down my backpack, and just as I get comfortable, I overhear a woman on the phone. Her tone shifts — gentle, familiar — and I realize she’s talking to my daughters. Then I hear his voice. My ex.

I speak up, and she says, “That’s funny, I’ve never heard about you.”
I answer calmly, “I’m his ex-wife. Those are my kids.”

In that moment, I just knew — he never mentioned me because he’s ashamed of how far I’ve come, of how beautiful my life has become without him. After that, I decide I don’t want to ride my bike home. I text my wife and ask her to come pick me up.

⸻

Message 🕊️
The bike represents the journey I’ve been pedaling through alone — the hard work, the balance, the independence. School often symbolizes learning, growth, and spiritual lessons — the kind that come from experience, not books. Riding there on my own shows how far I’ve come on my personal path, learning through life itself.

My camera hanging around my neck is my awareness — the way I observe my own story unfolding. I’m no longer lost in the motion; I’m witnessing it, capturing the truth of who I am. Setting it down when I rest shows that I’m finally allowing myself to be — to live, not just record.

Hearing my ex and my daughters reminds me of the life I once lived and the identity I’ve since outgrown. The part where he never mentioned me reflects something deeper — that my healing, my peace, my happiness — became something that didn’t need validation or recognition. It simply exists.

And then, my wife — the one who always comes to pick me up. In the dream before this, I literally asked her to come get me. And just as I finished writing this one, she texted me — saying she would always come pick me up.

That’s no coincidence — that’s divine alignment.
It’s spirit showing me that love has evolved from something I had to chase to something that shows up. From trying to make someone see my worth to being with someone who already does.

Sometimes the journey teaches us to pedal alone —
so when the right person arrives,
we know what it means to be carried home.

✨
💫
🕊️
💖
🌙

11/07/2025

Adrift Between Worlds 🌅

Dream 💭
I’m visiting distant family — aunts, uncles, cousins, and my grandfather. It begins on a yacht, the air warm with laughter and the scent of dinner drifting over the waves. I tell my wife I want to take pictures before the sun sets — something about the glow pulls me in, that last bit of light before it disappears.

Then everything shifts. Suddenly, I’m at my aunt and uncle’s house. It hasn’t changed a bit — the same furniture, the same smell of nostalgia — except for a few cabinet doors that are missing. I notice it immediately. It feels symbolic, like parts of the past are exposed now, things that used to be hidden finally showing themselves.

The energy grows heavier. People are drinking, laughing too loud, climbing into cars. Some are even drinking and driving. There’s chaos everywhere — a mix of old patterns and recklessness I no longer want to be part of.

It’s time to go. Strangely, my ex is the one driving me home. But just as we’re about to leave, he lays down on the counter and falls asleep. I watch him for a moment — and it hits me. He’s symbolic of a part of me that’s fallen dormant. The old version of me that used to stay in that chaos, that confusion, that constant loop of trying to make everyone comfortable. He’s no longer awake in my story — and maybe that’s the point.

I step into the dining room, sit at the table, and text my wife. “Can you come pick me up?” I ask. She’s confused, asking questions I can’t quite answer yet. “I’ll explain when you get here,” I tell her. Deep down, I know she represents my peace — the part of me that’s grounded in love, safety, and truth. I just need her to come get me — to help me return to myself.

⸻

Message 🕊️

The yacht represents emotional navigation — moving through deep waters with the people who built your foundation. But the sunset reminds me that not every chapter is meant to last forever. Taking pictures before it fades is my spirit’s way of saying, “Remember this — but let it go.”

The missing cabinet doors reveal what’s usually hidden: old wounds, family patterns, generational chaos that once felt normal but now feel exposed under the light of awareness.

The drinking and driving symbolize recklessness and lack of control — perhaps the parts of me or others that act out from pain instead of healing.

My ex falling asleep on the counter shows that the old emotional attachments, the part of me that used to drive from fear or guilt, have gone dormant. I don’t need them to take me “home” anymore — they can rest.

And my wife, showing up in confusion but love, is my higher self — the one who doesn’t need to fix, only to arrive and guide me back. She is the stability that replaces the chaos.

This dream was my soul’s way of saying: “You don’t have to ride the old waves or go home the same way you used to. You’ve already chosen peace — now trust it to come pick you up.”

11/06/2025

The Separation Game 🎈

Dream 💭
Me and my wife are at a resort, relaxed and connected — until suddenly, all the couples are split apart. She’s sent down to the beach to play games while I’m told to stay back and mingle with strangers.

After a while, I wander down to the shore looking for her, but she’s gone. I head back to the hangout to find my phone, hoping to call her, but it’s missing too. Someone points out my necklace and says, “You’re part of that group.”
I shake my head — “No, I’m not. I’m just wearing it in support.”
That’s when it hits me — this was all a setup. We were intentionally separated.

I finally spot a girl holding my phone — completely taken apart, wires and pieces scattered everywhere. How am I supposed to reach my wife now? I collect every piece, desperate to fix it, but I don’t know how to put it back together. I tell the girl, “Is your mother here? Because I’m pressing charges.”
She looks scared. But honestly… so am I.

As I walk away, I notice a tiny monkey sleeping on top of a fridge, clutching a yellow balloon. Peaceful. Unbothered. Almost as if to say, you don’t have to fix everything — just rest.

⸻

Message 🕊️
The barcode necklace stayed with me after I woke — something about it felt haunting. A barcode represents identity, labels, being scanned and sorted. It’s man-made, reducing what’s unique into something that can be read and tracked. When someone in the dream pointed at it and said I was “part of that group,” I felt misunderstood — defined by something that was never really mine. I wasn’t part of that system; I was just wearing it in support, unaware of how it looked.

That’s the space I’ve been living in lately — trying to heal my separation anxiety as my wife prepares for her trip. That familiar ache has crept in again, the one that whispers I’m being left behind. But I know now that pain doesn’t come from her leaving — it comes from the past. From the old programming that taught me distance means danger and silence means abandonment.

The barcode feels like that programming — an imprint of all the ways I’ve learned to panic when I feel disconnected. But awareness is healing, and this dream reminded me that I can stop identifying with the code. I don’t need to be scanned to be seen.

When my phone was taken apart, it mirrored how I’ve felt inside — scattered, uncertain how to put my connection back together. But then I saw the monkey sleeping on the fridge, holding the yellow balloon. Calm. Still. A soft reminder that I don’t have to fix everything to feel safe again.

This dream taught me that love doesn’t need constant proof to exist. My wife isn’t leaving me — she’s simply living her life, and I’m allowed to live mine too. The barcode doesn’t define me. The broken phone doesn’t mean I’m disconnected. The space between us doesn’t have to be filled with fear — it can be filled with trust.

Separation isn’t abandonment; it’s expansion. A chance to come home to myself — to the part of me still resting peacefully, holding on to hope, waiting to be seen. 💛

11/04/2025

Vacation Reflections 🪞

Dream 💭
I’m on vacation with my wife and kids — the air feels light, carefree. I rent a bike and a scooter, and my youngest hops on with me as we ride around the resort, laughing and exploring like we have nowhere else to be.

Eventually, it’s time to return them. The guy at the rental booth tries to charge me another $10 for being late, which annoys me, but I let it go.

Back at the rooms, I turn a corner and freeze — my wife is in the bathroom, sitting in the whirlpool bath tub with two naked girls on her lap. My chest tightens. I don’t want to overreact, but the ache in my stomach says otherwise.

I turn away, step into another bathroom — this one all marble, calm and quiet. I stare at the patterns in the stone, searching for grounding. I pick up a toothbrush and start brushing my teeth, trying to wash away the taste of confusion. When I finish, I grab the blow dryer and start drying my hair — the steady hum filling the silence, anchoring me back into myself.

⸻

Message 🕊️
This dream felt like an emotional mirror. It began in peace — surrounded by my wife and kids, full of laughter and connection. Everything felt whole. But then something small shifted — a $10 late fee — and I could feel tension sneak in. That tiny moment reflected something much deeper: how even small triggers in my waking life can stir up old fears.

My wife leaves next week for work, and I know that’s where this came from. Last week, I was already anxious about it — not because she’s done anything to make me question her, but because sometimes distance awakens the parts of me that still fear being left. She’s never betrayed my trust. It’s me — the guilt I still carry from my past, the parts of me that worry I’ll somehow lose what I love because of who I used to be.

The image of her in the whirlpool bath wasn’t about betrayal. It was about exposure — my own insecurities and shadows coming to the surface. It’s the part of me that still craves reassurance, even when love is safe. The marble bathroom was my calm, my higher self — the version of me that knows how to pause instead of spiral. Brushing my teeth and drying my hair became symbols of cleansing — washing away the stories my fear tries to tell, and reclaiming clarity when my mind starts to wander.

This dream reminded me that peace isn’t about controlling what happens — it’s about trusting myself enough to stay grounded when it does. I’m learning to choose peace instead of panic. To see my triggers not as proof of danger but as invitations to heal. Because love doesn’t leave — fear just makes it hard to see clearly. And when I take a breath, brush away the noise, and dry off what no longer belongs to me… I remember I’m safe here.

11/03/2025

The Cursed Gift 📖✨

Dream 💭
I’m visiting a temple, and when I arrive, someone gifts me a book. I don’t open it right away — I wait until the end. There’s a big party happening, full of energy and laughter, but after a while, I’m not in the mood anymore, so I slip away to lie down.

When I get back up, I notice my wife and kids are still out having fun. I start walking through the halls — every bed is neatly made with soft pink bedding. As I move through the rooms, I begin opening drawers and realize all of my belongings have been perfectly organized — everything of mine tucked neatly into the bottom drawer.

That’s when I remember the gift. I open the book… and instantly sense that it’s cursed. I call it what it feels like — a doppelgänger. I hide it behind my back and bring it back to its original owner. When I hand it over, they look disappointed.

“You weren’t supposed to open that until you got home,” they say.

But I’m relieved. Now I’m glad I did.

My dad looks at the woman and says he wants it.
I look at him, firm and certain — “No, you don’t.”

⸻

Message 🕊️
This dream was a spiritual initiation — a moment where I met the reflection of everything I’ve released. The temple represents my higher self, the sacred space within me where truth can’t be disguised. The book was knowledge or energy I was gifted long ago — something I wasn’t meant to fully understand until I was ready.

When I finally opened it and called it a doppelgänger, I realized I was staring at my shadow — the version of me that carried pain, patterns, and beliefs that once helped me survive but no longer serve who I’m becoming. The curse wasn’t evil; it was attachment — the weight of old energy trying to follow me home.

The pink bedding symbolized healing and self-compassion, while the organized drawers mirrored the inner work I’ve been doing — sorting through what’s mine to keep and what’s time to release. When I gave the book back, I was returning energy that was never truly mine to hold.

My father’s desire for the book reflected generational wounds — the inherited stories and habits that get passed down unconsciously. By saying no, I was breaking a cycle, protecting my lineage through awareness and boundaries.

This dream reminded me that not all gifts are meant to be accepted, and not all reflections are meant to be kept. Some are just mirrors — showing me how far I’ve come from the person I once was.

I didn’t just walk into a temple.
I walked into myself — and this time, I left the curse at the door. 🕯️

✨
🌙
🕯️
📖
💫

Dream Healer

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