“This wasn’t supposed to happen! Tell me why this has happened!” These are the spoken words of countless bereaved parents throughout countless years in countless languages. A never ending and always present wound in the Souls of those who have buried their children.

Parental grief is forever boundless; an ever present, deep-seated wound that has no name. There’s a reason no label has been ascribed to those who have lost a child — it is too foreign a concept, a much too chaotic form of brain freeze, an enormously frightening emotion for any language in the world to even consider naming.

Even as a child, I was a lucid dreamer. I never really thought that much about it. I just assumed everyone had dreams in vivid color and as real as anything encountered in everyday waking life. So, as a psychologist and a Spiritual counselor, I had no problem answering questions about our human condition and our seemingly unconscious dream states. Since my patient profile is heavily populated by those who are terminally ill, those who are now or those who have faced staggering loss, it is no surprise that every single day I am asked “Are my dreams real? Is it harmful to listen to them or follow them? Are my dreams signs?”

Hi there my crazy hot messes, my beautiful souls! For those of you hopping on board-you must know one thing-first and foremost-being a crazy hot mess is a beautiful thing! It means you are alive! You feel things intensely, you embrace life and run to it-not from it. You are so welcome here.

The journey we are on can be a long and lonely one so sharing who and what we are with others is a necessity if we are to thrive! Entering the underside of the soul-where your Spirit lives-can be difficult-especially if you have hidden away aspects of yourself that you were told were "not allowed".