I Dreamed in Symbols, and Found My Calling in the Storm
How a Cluster of Dreams Rewired My Life, My Art, and My Spiritual Mission
For the last few months, my dreams have been strange.
Not just weird. Not just “huh, that was random.” I’m talking mythic, cinematic, spiritual dreams. Dreams that felt like they were building something, each one adding another layer to a mystery I didn’t even know I was living inside.
And then, one night, it hit me:
These weren’t just dreams.
They were an initiation.
A story playing out beneath the surface of my life.
What started with a tornado and a penthouse eventually took me through flooded roads, identity shifts, spiritual gatekeepers, strange pools, transgender muses, and golden Viking halls. And at the end of it all, I wasn’t the same man who began the journey.
This article isn’t just about dream interpretation.
It’s about soul integration.
And how the strangest dreams can become your truest map.
Act I: The Storm That Carried Me Home
It started in a penthouse.
In the dream, I was there with my mom, high above it all, safe, successful, the symbol of a dream life finally achieved. But within moments, a tornado came out of nowhere and blew us across the ocean. The whole thing felt like a Disney ride, equal parts terrifying and thrilling.
That tornado felt like what my life has been lately.
After years of navigating intense creative pressure, fighting to bring my horror film to life, juggling spiritual questions, creative pressure, and health exhaustion, I’ve felt thrown. Spun. Disoriented. But not destroyed.
Because the storm didn’t kill me.
It moved me.
And in the dreams, the storm didn’t end the story. It began it.
Act II: Drowned, Divided, and Still Walking
After the storm, I was walking down a gravel road that began to flood. I was with two Black people. Then, when we emerged from the woods, they had become Asian.
We walked through an RV field, and suddenly everyone was divided—Black people in one line, Asians in another, and me, the only white person, caught between them.
It felt like spiritual limbo.
Cultural disorientation.
Emotional honesty I couldn’t name.
Then came the transgender Asian woman. She was kind. Familiar. Intimate. But she told me she could no longer be my girlfriend. I didn’t understand it, but I respected it.
Looking back, I think she was a symbol, not of loss, but of transformation.
A muse changing form. A dream I once held, letting go of me.
These dreams asked me to release my need for clarity in favor of something deeper: integration. The merging of contradictions. The dissolving of boxes. The healing of all the separate parts of myself I’ve tried to hide or edit down to be palatable.
Act III: Boundaries, Septic Tanks, and the Church That Didn’t Listen
One dream was set in a church, led by a female prophetic minister who invited me to speak. I tried to tell her the truth about my past: the chaos, the trauma, the messiness of real ministry and street-level pain.
She stopped listening.
Jason, my best friend, stood up for me.
Carr, the special needs man I support in real life, became the voice of clarity and courage.
And when the prophet asked if I could host Bible studies in my house, I told her the septic tank might explode.
That’s when I realized what the septic tank symbolized:
Unprocessed pain. Trauma buried so deep that if I tried to invite others in without healing, it might erupt.
But I wasn’t ashamed of it. I was honest. And that honesty? It led to something wild.
I stood up in that church and preached God’s love for the LGBTQ community. The people erupted in support. And suddenly, I was leading a revolution, not of anger, but of inclusion.
Of honesty. Of spiritual defiance rooted in love.
Act IV: The Pool I Wasn’t Supposed to Enter
Another night, I dreamed I accidentally stumbled into an elite swimming pool, beautiful, exclusive, serene.
I wasn’t supposed to be there. But I was.
No one stopped me.
No one questioned it.
I felt unprepared. I hid my cellphone. I asked about taking a shower. A construction worker told me I’d have to climb a water pole to really get clean—but that required a ticket I didn’t have.
I decided to just swim.
I didn’t need to ascend higher.
I didn’t need to perform.
Just being there, just being, was enough.
And maybe that’s the real message:
You already belong in the sacred places.
You don’t need to buy a ticket to your own purpose.
You’re already in it.
Act V: The Table in the Golden Hall
In my most recent dream, I sat at a long wooden table that looked like it belonged in a Viking hall or the early American frontier.
Everything had a golden tint—like a film shot by a brilliant DP trying to evoke timelessness. Sometimes I sat at the head. Sometimes at the side.
I talked about AI and creativity. About making films. About telling stories from the margins.
A bearded man (think Hagrid meets a dwarven blacksmith) leaned in, genuinely interested in my words.
A fierce Viking woman asked me about small towns, success, and art.
And I felt it in my bones:
This wasn’t a dream.
It was a council.
A gathering of ancient archetypes, ancestors, inner selves—sitting with me, nodding, listening, asking:
How will you use what you’ve been given?
What This Whole Cluster Was Really Saying
When I step back and look at this entire collection of dreams, I see a full story:
A storm removes false security.
A wilderness strips away your roles.
A pool offers access to what you didn’t know you were ready for.
A prophetic gatekeeper forces you to speak your truth.
A golden table reminds you: you’ve always belonged.
I’m not just writing horror stories.
I’m not just making films on a shoestring budget.
I’m answering a calling, to create art that transforms. That speaks for the outcasts. That merges the grotesque with the sacred. That brings trauma and truth to the same table.
I’m not a preacher. I’m not a guru.
I’m just a guy from Tennessee who dreams big, writes dark, and believes that monsters and mystics have something in common:
They both reveal what we’re afraid to face.
If You’ve Had Dreams Like These…
Start writing them down.
Look at them not as scattered fragments, but as scenes in your soul’s film. Ask what part of your story they’re trying to tell. You may not get answers right away. That’s okay.
But I promise: if you listen closely,
You’ll start to see the ride you’re already on.
And it just might be the very story you were born to tell.
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🖤 If this resonated with you, leave a comment below or share a dream that’s been haunting you. I’d love to help you decode it.
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Your insight into things are so powerful. Always speaks to me in many ways . I have also been dreaming of dead people that I knew and also didn’t know . I’ve also been dreaming of movie stars . Sometimes these dreams seem very real and have dreamed of Elvis singing . His dreams would be so powerful that they would awaken me . Thank you for sharing and thank you for your great inspiration of writing.