Tag: dreams

  • On Blooming

    Last night, right before falling asleep, I did something I occasionally do when I’m feeling a little curious about what the night might bring.

    I sort of… check in upstairs. Not in a dramatic ritual way. More like a quiet internal message before drifting off: “Alright, higher self. If you’ve got anything interesting tonight, I’m open. Cool visions welcome. Cozy dreams appreciated.”

    Usually when I do that, I end up somewhere new. A place I’ve never been in waking life but somehow recognize later when I actually go there. My dreams like to play travel agent sometimes. So naturally, I was expecting some kind of mysterious new landscape.

    Instead, I got… a massage therapist from another dimension. In the dream, this strange-looking man appeared. The kind of person who gives off the vibe that he knows things without asking questions.

    He walked right up to me and started working on my shoulders and neck. No small talk. Straight to business. And somehow he knew exactly where the pain was sitting.

    The moment his hands pressed into those spots, I could feel it leaving. Not just the physical tension, but the emotional stuff too: the old weight that somehow lives in the body long after the original moment has passed.

    It was so real I collapsed to my knees in the dream and started crying. Not sad crying. That kind of crying that happens when something heavy finally leaves your system and your body goes, “Oh… that’s what relief feels like.”

    I remember saying thank you over and over again while the pain drained out. Then I woke up.

    And the first thing I noticed was how light my body felt. Not magically healed, my heart still feels tender, and tight, but lighter. Like something important had shifted a few millimeters in the right direction.

    Which makes sense, because I’m currently in what I can only describe as a heart opening phase.

    The next couple of weeks are very clearly scheduled for hermit mode. Quiet processing. Emotional housekeeping. Letting things move through the system without rushing them.

    My dreams tend to work like that. First I see it there. Then I feel it there. Then eventually waking life catches up. Sometimes the translation is immediate. Sometimes it takes months. Occasionally years. My subconscious clearly operates on its own timeline.

    But something else happened this weekend that made me smile. I caught my reflection in the mirror and noticed my eyes looked… different. They looked like they did in 2024. Big. Soft. Sparkly. Open.

    For a while that version of me had disappeared. The walls around my heart went up for a reason. Self-protection. When you feel things deeply, sometimes the only way to survive certain seasons is to close the gates for a while.

    If I had opened everything all at once back then, I probably would have broken. So the system did what it needed to do. It processed things slowly. Carefully. One layer at a time.

    And now those walls are starting to come down again. That nurturing part of me, the one I actually loved the most about myself, is quietly coming back online.

    Not because I forced it. Because the timing is finally right.

    Another thing I’ve noticed lately is a strange sense of peace settling in about my roots.

    The places I’ve lived. The cultures that didn’t shape me, but had me find what I actually loved. The country where I spent eighteen years. The one where I spent nine and a half. The music, the food, the people, the little pieces of identity that come from growing up between worlds.

    Even two cultures I spent a good portion of my life actively disliking, those are softening now too, thanks to a dream that shifted my perspective in ways I didn’t expect.

    Healing has a funny way of expanding the heart in directions you once swore you’d never go. And it always takes time. Patience. Kind people around you, especially if you’ve been through enough alone. People who see you clearly and treat you with gentleness. People who understand your past without using it against you.

    When that kind of environment exists, something beautiful happens. You start blooming again.

    Not because you’re chasing something. Not because you’re trying to prove anything. Simply because you’re ready.

    And I suppose that’s the quiet truth underneath all of it: Before anything can bloom… the roots have to feel safe in the soil first.

  • REM Sleep, System Updates, and the Cannabis Glitch

    a nice spot to chill.

    Our brains have this wildly underrated built-in system: dreams. Not sexy, not aesthetic, not something you can monetize on Instagram. Just your subconscious clocking in for the night shift.

    This is where your subconscious talks to your conscious mind. This is where the emotional inbox gets sorted. And yes, this is why sometimes you dream about someone and later find out they were going through something intense. Humans are highly pattern-detecting, emotionally attuned creatures. Sometimes the overlap is eerie. Sometimes it’s just your nervous system being very, very perceptive.

    But one thing is not up for debate: your subconscious loves processing at night.

    That exam anxiety. That 200-meter butterfly race from 10 years ago. That relationship your body still hasn’t fully metabolized. That childhood fall your nervous system never quite filed away.

    It processes. It organizes. It releases.

    And yes, it often shows up in those completely unhinged dreams where your ex’s mother is chasing you through a house with no exits, or your swimsuit rips five minutes before the meet. Glamorous? No. Effective? Very.

    There is a difference between subconscious purge dreams and premonition dreams, and we can absolutely open that rabbit hole another day. Today we are staying on Earth.

    Because I have a theory.

    What happens when you keep interrupting this beautifully designed nightly cleanup system?

    Plenty of long-term cannabis users report dreaming less… or not at all. And the plot twist? When they stop for a while, the dreams come back like they’ve been waiting backstage for years: vivid, intense, sometimes overwhelming.

    Coincidence? Maybe. But neurologically, it’s not shocking.

    Cannabis tends to dampen REM sleep: the phase most associated with vivid dreaming and emotional memory processing. Translation: it can absolutely change how your brain does its nighttime housekeeping.

    In small doses it can feel like a temporary patch. Long term, though, it can behave less like a fix and more like a background bug, quietly interrupting processes your system was designed to run automatically.

    Here’s where my observation gets spicy.

    Cannabis can create distance from the self while simultaneously making you feel like you’re gaining perspective. You feel disconnected from yourself enough that you can observe your life without fully feeling it. For short-term relief, that can feel like a gift. For long-term emotional integration? It can quietly become avoidance in a very cozy outfit.

    I’m not here to tell anyone to quit overnight. That’s not realistic, and honestly, not helpful.

    But many sensitive, perceptive, high-awareness people reach for cannabis because their systems are overloaded. It feels regulating in the moment. The uncomfortable possibility? Over time, it may delay the very processing that would actually free up your nervous system.

    If your subconscious had been allowed to fully process that relationship from 10 years ago… would your body have entered the next one differently? For many people, the honest answer is: probably yes.

    Here’s the part nobody loves hearing: You are stronger than your coping habits.

    Your system is built to metabolize emotion, memory, and stress. Dreams are part of that design. They are not here to torture you with weird symbolic theatre. They are your brain taking the trash out at night.

    Skip the trash night for too long… and the house starts smelling funny.

    If the brain is a computer, dreams are the automatic updates and background cleaning. Regularly numbing that process is a bit like clicking “update later” for ten years straight. Cannabis doesn’t delete the files, it just postpones the processing queue.

    Eventually? The system slows. Things glitch. Simple emotional tasks take five business days. Your brain already knows what it’s doing. The real question is whether you’re letting it do the job.

    And in an era that is culturally – and yes, astrologically – pushing more people toward embodiment, regulation, and actual forward movement… many are going to feel the nudge to stop postponing their own processing.

    Because the next chapter isn’t about floating. It’s about functioning.

  • (Almost) White Christmas

    Yesterday, the air smelled like snow. You know that smell, the kind that sneaks up on you, taps you on the shoulder, and whispers, “Put your expectations down, but trust me anyway.” I didn’t get my hopes up. I never do. I just knew. And sure enough, it snowed. The first snow of the season here.

    Apparently, I don’t just travel with actual baggage; I bring weather systems. Missed the November snow in Bern, caught it back home in Bulgaria. Timing has never been my strongest skill, but when it hits, it hits.

    I’m reunited with my parents and our dogs for Christmas and New Year’s, sitting in my parents’ new handmade sunroom while snow falls politely outside. Courtesy of my father, who can build actual structures with his hands. Which explains… A lot. Apparently this is why I have a soft spot for men who can build things. Especially out of wood. Especially if they don’t need an instruction manual. I, too, have woodworking plans. Turns out it’s genetic. The blueprint was there all along.

    Now, let’s be honest. I’d choose Alpine cold over this humid, windy chaos any day. This is the kind of cold that seeps into your bones uninvited. And yet, yes, I’m still considering a swim in the Black Sea, despite it feeling like minus seven degrees outside. Limits? Never met her. My idea of fun doesn’t need refinement, just a matching level of insanity and other humans who hear “freezing water” and think, “Perfect.” Especially if that’s a mutually agreed first-date plan. 

    After Christmas dinner, and an ambitious amount of mulled wine at apéro, I slept for twelve uninterrupted hours. Twelve. A coma, really. A well-earned one after a week of sleep deprivation and questionable decisions.

    And then… the dreams.

    Three different men starred in them. One by one. Like a rotating cast. I feel dirty, in the best possible way. Real me is on a wholesome family holiday. Dream me, however, had a packed social calendar, dream dates. One was the regular. The recurring character. Always there, stopped complaining about it, there is no point. This time particularly committed to reminding me what I was allegedly missing out on. The other two were new. And new is always delightful. I was eventually pulled back to reality by our puppy launching himself into bed like a furry alarm clock with zero respect for narrative closure. 

    And somewhere between the snow, the wine, the dreams, and the dog hair, it hit me how far I’ve come since September. Back then, I was still mad at him. Actively. Professionally. Now? Life is too good to bother. Plus, I closed the loop. Finally. Turns out some things don’t need force, just timing. And a little snowfall for dramatic effect.

    I’m out. I’m free. Free to live and enjoy the absolute crap out of myself, like a graduate freshly released into the world, slightly unhinged, deeply grateful, and fully convinced that the best part might still be ahead.

    And honestly? I’ll take that kind of white Christmas any year. Light and fluffy. Good vibes, BBQ meats with a side of potato salad with homemade French Dressing. 

  • Terms & Conditions of a Daydream

    on daring to dream when reality doesn’t match our expectations (yet).

    Every day we hit accept.

    Cookies on websites. That it’s raining when we wore a summer skirt. That our hair will frizz, no matter how much serum we convinced ourselves to buy. That the night we’re supposed to look our best, the universe hands us drizzle, bad lighting, and an unplanned walk to dinner without an umbrella.

    We accept reality as it is. That’s grown-up life.

    But here’s the paradox: while we’re practicing all this day-to-day acceptance, we’re also daring. Daring to dream of the sunny apartment with hanging house plants and the terrace with a view. Of turning thirty on a Friday with a rooftop day-dance in the city we want to live. Of “window-shopping” motorcycles we don’t own yet, secretly knowing one day we’ll be taking switchback mountain roads like it’s second nature. Of surfing the waves while practicing on the balance board. Of one day cruising along the beach paths, surrounded by palm trees on the surfskate.

    We stroll through streets we feel like we’ve spent lifetimes wandering, dare to learn a new language, and discover new places in hopes that one day we’ll be dining there with the people we love. We spend hours “day-dreaming” aka. visualising the life we want.

    So, where’s the line? When does acceptance stop being surrender, and start becoming complacency? When does intuition-fueled dreaming turn into actual action?

    The truth is: we’ll never feel fully “figured out.” There’s no email that lands in your inbox saying, Congratulations! You now know exactly what you want, please proceed to checkout.

    What happens is this: the dream keeps circling back. It shows up in different forms; through songs, people you meet, places that tug at you, the bike engines you hear before you see them. And at some point, dreaming stops feeling like fantasy and starts feeling like oxygen. That’s when you know it’s not just “a nice idea.” It’s a pull.

    And the only thing left to do is accept that too. Accept that you’re never going to be 100% sure. Accept that intuition doesn’t come with guarantees. Accept that action always feels a little premature: until you take it, and realize the leap was the point all along.

    So maybe the real question isn’t how long until we take action? Maybe it’s how long do we want to keep pretending we’re not ready?