I’ve always believed in the power of dreams. As a therapist, I’ve seen how the unconscious speaks in symbols, and how healing can come through self-awareness. But a few years ago, something shifted.
After a particularly hard stretch—grief, burnout, and a sense of deep disconnection—I started having recurring nightmares. Dark, intense, and relentless. I’d wake up shaken and tired, unable to make sense of what my mind was trying to tell me. The dreams felt more like punishments than messages. I tried journaling. I tried meditating. Nothing helped.
That’s when I found Dream Ritual Art.
I signed up for a one-on-one dream session, thinking maybe a different perspective could help. What I got was so much more than that.
The facilitator didn’t just interpret my dreams—they invited me to create from them. One nightmare in particular—an image of a crumbling staircase and a voice whispering “not yet”—kept returning. In our session, I was guided to explore the image somatically, and then express it through collage and drawing. It was uncomfortable at first. But also strangely liberating.
For the first time, I wasn’t trying to fix the nightmare. I was listening to it. Giving it form. Giving it respect.
That one session led to another, and then to a full course. Slowly, the fear around my dreams began to shift. I started to see them not as threats, but as thresholds—painful, yes, but full of wisdom.
And as I made art from these shadows, something softened in me.
A tenderness I hadn’t allowed myself in a long time.
A new beginning, born from what once felt unbearable.
I now integrate dream-art exercises into my own therapeutic practice, offering clients creative ways to engage with their unconscious. But more importantly, I continue this work for myself—because I’ve learned that sometimes, the scariest images are simply waiting for us to meet them with compassion and curiosity.
Dream Ritual Art gave me that space.
To sit with the darkness, and eventually, to paint the light.