🗣️ 🌥️ Claudia said something to the clouds
3 dreams from the landscapes of my soul
He says to me, “I’m not going to be taught unbelievable, magical things about myself.” I reply, “If you don’t let consciousness teach you about itself, who else will?” — Conversation in a Dream, May 21, 2025
Inner work is often framed as something you can only access if you have enough time, money, or stability to spare. Therapy can be a lifeline, but many of us are still in survival mode, doing our best just to meet our basic needs.
Meanwhile, every night, consciousness runs its own medicine. Dreaming is free. When we pay attention to our dreams, we let the soul stream into the body, the same way we let the external world stream into our eyes, ears, and mind all day long.
The soul has stories too—older than this lifetime—and they are always trying to speak. This year, three dreams in particular revealed the landscape of my soul: my ancestral house became a Goddess temple, my ghost story became a vow to never abandon ship, and my cosmic tourist heart remembered that the soul can transcend the body.
🗣️ 🌥️ Claudia said something to the clouds
DREAM, APRIL 23, 2025
I walk through an ancestral house run by a Mexican cartel man. He holds a family at gunpoint on a terrace. As I walk by, it feels like a casual, everyday event. I hear the gunshots as I descend to the first floor.
On the first floor I discover an art gallery preparing for an exhibit. The preliminary prints are hand drawn on the wall and I know soon their real paintings will be hanging in their place. Susan Seddon Boulet, the Goddess painter, arrives with her collection. I’m so excited to meet her and to tell her that I love her work. The cartel man interrupts me and hands her one dollar for her entire collection. In that moment, I understand that the Goddess is being used to launder money. I am furious.
I immediately walk into the higher-up’s office to lodge a complaint about how all this is unfolding in my ancestral house. I stand up on the marble table to speak my mind. Others come to watch the spectacle behind the glass doors, and they wonder if I am being promoted or fired.
The higher-up is a woman, which feels significant. She tells me I am being promoted to her position, but that she isn’t ready to announce it until Monday, and that I should not say anything to anyone yet. She lets the others into the office—they feel like peers or colleagues—and she points to a sign that was just put up on the wall. It reads: “Claudia will promise to not stand on top of the marble table again.” The marble table feels sacred and delicate, like a pedestal for Gods.
She then hands us all printed cards that say the same thing and instructs us to pass them out to the public, so that others know this kind of heresy is not acceptable. I walk away with a feeling of accomplishment and pride and excitement, and I don’t care that I have to pretend I will never stand up on the marble table again. I start passing the cards out to strangers, and when I look at them I see that what is printed is something different. The card reads: “Claudia said something to the clouds.” The background of the card begins to move and it is an image of clouds parting. It feels as if the Gods have listened.
I am now the higher-up in my ancestral house, and I will restore it as a true temple of the Goddess.
👻 📖 Claudia’s Homecoming: A Ghost Story
DREAM, AUGUST 22, 2025
PART I
During the midst of a war, I pick up a tattered book to read to a younger boy. It is a ghost story, and he is too scared to hear it. I turn to the first page and the title of the story reads: “Claudia’s Homecoming.” It begins with, “Anything could happen, and of course, it did.” I don’t yet understand why this is called a “ghost” story.
Before this scene I had just found a wagon cart of babies left behind. They are each marked with paint in one of two colors. One color is to mark their “property,” and the other color is to mark their own children.
I become their caretaker, and that’s when I see how beautifully pure these babies are. The enemy’s children and “our own” are indistinguishable. In that moment of clarity, I remember my own purity and how perfect I was when I came into this Earth battlefield. So I say to one of the babies, “But all babies are pure and perfect though, right?” And the baby gives me side-eye, as if to say some babies come in already sinned and soiled, with stories from before.
I consider how the first half of my story was written by the world, and how the second half is up to me—to decide whether it becomes a ghost story or not.
PART II
The dream continues and the landscape shifts from war-torn to wild. A young Indigenous man with long dark hair down to his shoulders hands me the “kit” for the next phase of my life. It is a hand-carved wooden box, and I open it to find a tincture among other ceremonial items.
He says I have to go out into nature to take it. I cannot abandon myself, he says. Because they are ready to show me my destiny, he says. But I have to say it out loud. I have to make this promise and vow to never abandon myself—this body-ship, this vessel.
He tells me about himself, about his own destiny. I ask him if the medicine showed him what he is meant to become, and, sheepishly, he says no.
I go back in time psychically and see that what the vision first showed him was his potential—yes—but more importantly, it showed him all the ways he blocks himself and limits himself.
I realize we don’t get handed our destinies on a platter. Instead, we are given the opportunities to see what is holding us back from creating our own destinies.
I vow to never abandon myself and to meet whatever comes with my soul and heart embodied.
“Open mindedness is different than positive mindedness,” my angel says in a dream. “The first believes anything is possible, and the second believes that a specific positive thing will happen for you—and it usually does.”
— October 24, 2025
🌌 🚌 My Cosmic Tourist Soul Imprint
NOVEMBER 26, 2025
I speak to my friends about the existential pain I feel of being trapped in one body and in one incarnation. I describe it most strongly like this: when I see a tourist bus of travelers come through town, my heart aches to jump on and abandon everything I know.
This is a metaphor for my spiritual restlessness. This is my insatiable hunger for novelty and adventure and for new stories. It is part of my soul imprint. I long for cosmic freedom and the desire to love unboundlessly throughout the universe.
Maybe this is what my grandfather felt as a long-haul truck driver, marrying multiple women and seeding himself all over the map. Maybe this is my conquistador lineage. Maybe this is my Indiana Jones archetype I meet in visions.
Life can be an adventure and the body can be a cage that traps the soul. I know astral freedom. I know it’s all an illusion.
We are never truly trapped, and as we develop our multidimensional awareness of the many worlds and realities we are seeded in, we can dissolve the illusion. We can obey the laws of nature and still transcend them.
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