It’s strange the way grief and memory weave themselves into our dreams. Time has a habit of bending and breaking, and sometimes, the answers we seek in the waking world are handed to us, raw and unfiltered, in our sleep. From Journal Entry 10/15/2010 It was only five days after my cousin was murdered by her boyfriend. I was living in a shockwave, but the dream itself didn't feel like my everyday life. Instead, I was transported. I was in ancient Roman times. The scene was the Colosseum, a place defined by its raw, primal justice. There were games underway, and I was competing. I wasn’t just a spectator; I was a warrior in that arena. Even then, my instinct was protective; I felt the fierce need to guard my friends who were with me in the crowd. And then, I saw him. The killer. His appearance was different than in the present day, but I knew. I knew who he was instantly. He was a shadow in the crowd, a parasite in the perfect order of that ancient place. Ou...
My writing is inspired by my vivid dreams, my divine connection, my active imagination, my twin flame bond, and reflections on my daily life. Empowering women who are recovering from abuse and guiding souls through their spiritual awakening. May these words guide you to reclaim your voice, your heart, and your divine purpose.