What if the storm isn’t something you survive…

but something you seal off?

In this dream, the tornado came from outside.

Everyone else ran.

I turned back.

Because someone had to close the door.

This episode isn’t about being fearless.

It’s about choosing where the chaos ends.

About being the body that holds the line

quietly, without praise,

so no one else has to hear the wind.

I didn’t need to be seen.

I needed the silence that followed.

And I earned it.

I started this dream on a city bus and ended it at the head of a boat—singing a language I didn’t know, calling people home from the wreckage.

In between?

Glass ceilings that shattered on command.

Starving fish that bit but didn’t mean harm.

A collapsing bridge, a message from the dead,

and a stranger who said, you’re finally here.

This is a dream about survival that refuses to be small.

About being mistaken for a victim—until you remember you’re the one doing the calling.

Welcome to The Sea Dried Up and I Kept Singing.

Stay if you’re ready.

Swim if you’re not.

What if your seat was never in question—just waiting on you to claim it?

In this episode of Dreams Between Lives, I share a dream where I almost missed a flight… not because I wasn’t ready, but because I stopped to change. It’s a story about identity, timing, the power of naming yourself, and what happens when you decide to walk anyway—even if the limo already left.

Sometimes, the door doesn’t open with a knock.

It opens when you say your name like you mean it.

Listen in, and then ask yourself: what truth are you still trying to look ready for?