Don’t call Me

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?

What do you do when you know it’s all about to collapse—and no one believes you?In this episode, I take you inside a dream where I’m trapped in a house that’s already dying. A sliding stairwell, a splintering beam, two patients too bitter to move, and a room full of people pretending nothing’s wrong. I warned them. They didn’t listen.This isn’t just a dream about a crumbling structure—it’s about the weight of being the one who sees the end before it comes. It’s about staying too long, carrying what isn’t yours, and whispering it’s coming while everyone else tells you to calm down.The house didn’t fall.Not yet.And that’s the wound.

What begins as a strange walk through a train museum becomes something much deeper—an unmarked map of the self. Curated by someone who once helped me find my voice, this dream wasn’t just memory. It was movement. Misdirection. And a confrontation with power disguised as silence.I flew through houses that weren’t homes.I tried to call out and got called something else.And still—there was a way through.This episode is about being seen, about refusing shame,and about learning that the way out was never locked.It was always me.I dedicate this episode to John R.

This episode is a return.To grief.To silence.To the shoreline that held me when I couldn’t hold myself.It’s a story carved across Charlotte, Carbondale, Avonia, and Rochester.Across eclipses.Across motherhood.Across memory.I speak about Shiv—not as a romance, but as a soul-recognition.About the stones I collect at Avonia Beach after dropping off my children.About grief that rides in the passenger seat.And the moment I stopped trying to be okayand started building from what was true.They didn’t forget I was sacred.I did.And now—I remember.

She thought she was just visiting a cave.But the stone knew her name.The water anointed her hands.And the darkness remembered her before she remembered herself.In this episode, Em returns to a memory buried since childhood—a dream of stairs behind a door,a temple beneath the surface,and a life lived in service to something ancient and sovereign.This is not a story of seeking.It’s a story of returning.Of striking the stone and hearing your own voice echo back.Of hitting your head and calling it holy.Of washing your hands in sacred silence—twice.Once to remember.Once to release.She is not here to be named.She is here to remind youthat you were never lost.You were always becoming.

Don’t Call Me: Dreams Between LivesNot all healing comes from collapse.Some begins in a room that asks nothing of you.No story. No apology. No performance.In this dream, I was exhausted. Unwashed. Unfiltered.And for once, no one looked away.He stayed still.Not to rescue me.Not to possess me.But to hold his shape long enoughfor me to lay mine down.This is the moment I stopped survivingin the presence of someone who expected nothingbut truth.

Some dreams don’t come to shatter you.They come to show you what you almost forgot.They come quiet.They come soft.And they stay.The night before the eclipse,I dreamed of the ones who loved me without needing to hold me.The ones who saw me without asking me to disappear.I almost missed the weight of it.I almost called it nothing.But it was already rewriting me,tucking a knowing back into my bones:You were seen. You were loved. You have always been enough.Before the tearing came,before the unraveling,this was the first door I walked through.This is where the remembering began.

In this opening episode, I take you into the dream that broke me open.A wedding I didn’t want.A weight I was never meant to carry.A torn gown, wet hair, and the truth that stillness isn’t danger—it’s freedom.Under the light of a total lunar eclipse, I was forced to face the roles I played, the silence I obeyed, and the lie that holding it all together made me worthy.This isn’t just a dream.It’s the threshold.The place where pretending ended—and I began.Listen if you’ve ever:Carried what wasn’t yours.Stayed too long in something that drained you.Thought breaking meant failing.Welcome to Don’t Call Me: Dreams Between Lives.This is where we stop pretending.This is where we rise.

Some objects carry more than just weight, they carry history. They hold memories, emotions, and the echoes of past versions of ourselves.Tonight, I pulled out a blanket. A thick, high-quality throw that has been with me for fifteen years. But I didn’t buy it. I didn’t inherit it. I picked it out on my first day at a women’s shelter, when I had nothing but the weight of my own heartbreak.At the time, I felt guilty for taking something nice like I didn’t deserve warmth or comfort. But that blanket stayed with me. Through the hardest moments. Through rebuilding my life. Through Shakespeare classes and sociology degrees and late-night revelations about Hamlet and the art of avoiding pain.Fifteen years later, I’m at a New Ivy League school. And that blanket is still here. A reminder that I chose to be. That I was never meant to simply suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, but to oppose them. To fight, to grow, to take what I needed to build something better.This episode is about that journey, the things we carry with us, the things that carry us, and the moments where we realize we are no longer who we were.Credits:Music by Fil Biggs | Goal GetterFind him here:Instagram: @thelifehandThreads: thelifehandWebsite: thelifehand.comThank you, Fil! Follow & Support the Podcast:Instagram: @dontcallmethepodcastThreads: dontcallmethepodcastShop: Emerald Intuitive on EtsyListen & Subscribe wherever you get your podcasts.If you’re in a place where you feel like you don’t deserve warmth, comfort, or peace, take the blanket. You deserve it.

Not all sanctuaries have walls. Some exist in the hush of midnight, in the weightless drift of water, in the space between the stars and the earth. This is the story of a Midwest farm, a dark pond, and a moment of stillness that felt like sanctuary. A summer night where the world disappeared, and for the first time in too long, I felt free.What’s Inside This Episode:Rebuilding a life after divorce and traumaThe heartbreak of separation from my childrenFinding unexpected friendship in a quiet, rural placeA night swim that became something sacredThe therapeutic power of stillness, silence, and surrenderHave you ever found peace in an unexpected place? Let’s talk. DM me or share your story.More Episodes: https://rss.com/podcasts/dontcallme