I Keep Having the Same Kind of Dream
People who used to call me their spiritual mother. Women I poured into, prayed over, held space for. My spiritual daughters.
In real life, they walked away. Quit talking to me. No fight. No explanation. Just…silence.
But in my dreams?
They're nice to me.
They show me around a sacred space. They tell everyone else to respect me. And the whole atmosphere feels like a beautiful, hippie, psychedelic dream — swirling colors, soft light, a temple made of love.
I wake up confused every time.
Not because the dream is scary. Because it's tender. And I don't know what to do with that tenderness after being left.
What I Realized
This dream isn't about them coming back.
It's about my soul rebalancing a story that broke me.
When they left in real life, a part of me wondered: Was I not good enough? Did I do something wrong? Was my love too much, or not enough?
But in the dream, there's no rejection. Only reverence.
They're not apologizing. They're not explaining. They're simply… honoring me. Showing me around a sacred space I helped build — even if they now walk through it without me.
The Psychedelic Hippie Atmosphere Matters
That dreamy, colorful, kaleidoscope energy isn't random.
It means this is happening on a spiritual plane, not a logical one. In the waking world, relationships end. People leave. Wounds don't always make sense.
But in the dream realm — the higher realm — the truth is simpler:
You are still worthy of honor. Even from people who left.
The psychedelic feeling says: Let go of the timeline. Let go of the grudge. Let go of needing an apology. Just receive the respect your soul never lost.
The Real Message
Here's what I need you to hear, because I need to hear it too:
Their leaving was never proof of your failure.
People outgrow spaces. They get triggered. They have their own unhealed wounds. Sometimes spiritual daughters become women who need to walk alone — not because the mother failed, but because the daughter needed her own path.
The dream isn't calling them back.
It's calling you back — to yourself.
To the sacred space inside you that never closed. To the respect you never stopped deserving. To the crown you let slip when you started wondering what you did wrong.
What I'm Doing With This Dream
I'm not reaching out to them.
I'm not chasing closure that was never offered.
Instead, I'm letting the dream be my closure.
Every time I remember those swirling colors and their gentle hands guiding me through that holy place, I whisper to myself:
"I am still the one who built that. I am still worthy of reverence. And I don't need them to stay for that to be true."
The dream gave me back my own crown.
And that's better than any apology.
For Anyone Who's Lost Spiritual Children, Students, or Chosen Family
You're not alone.
And you're not cursed.
Sometimes the people you pour into will leave. It will hurt. And years later, you might still dream of them — not as enemies, but as soft guides who finally show you the respect you always deserved.
Don't wake up angry.
Wake up restored.
The dream is real. Just not in the way you think.
The dream is your soul saying: See? You never lost your place. They just couldn't carry it anymore. But the sacred space? It's still yours.
Closing
They walked away in real life.
But in my dreams, they bow.
Not because I need their validation.
Because my higher self refuses to let me forget who I am.
And now? Neither will I.
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