The stranger in the garden
Just as she softened into that stillness, a shadow approached.
This is a dream I turned into a story for anyone learning to soften and trust again.
There once was a woman who lived between two worlds.
One was golden and quiet ... filled with slow mornings, sunlight, heart-felt peace, and love that asked nothing of her.
The other was colder ... built on lists, urgency, and the hum of fear and anxiety running under the surface.
She had learned to survive in the cold world.
To stay alert.
To prepare for worst-case scenarios.
To keep everything in its place.
But one night, she wandered into a dream.
She found herself in a home she didn’t recognize. Not her own.
Yet somehow, it felt familiar.
She watched a woman with long beautiful brown hair walk down the stairs.
Then suddenly, she was seeing through her eyes.
She had become her. 👀
She looked outside of her sliding glass doors to see strawberries in the garden, still warm from the sun.
There was a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in years. 🍓
But just as she softened into that stillness, a shadow approached.
A man with pale skin, hauntingly dark eyes, and dark brown hair stood on the other side of the glass door ... watching her. Waiting.
Her blood ran cold. She ran to lock the door.
But he broke through.
She tried to scream, tried to push him back, her heart pounding in her ears as fear surged through every cell in her being.
And just when it felt like too much ... help came.
She wasn't alone after all.
Afterward, they checked the camera.
This stranger started in the garden, drawn to the sweetness. Drawn to the part of her that had let something grow, unguarded.
He hadn’t come to steal safety.
He came to test if she still believed that love, trust, or surrender would cost her the one thing she couldn’t afford to lose—her power.
Then, something shifted.
She began speaking to the parts of her that still braced for danger:
You don’t have to run anymore. You don’t have to be the protector.
You don't have to be in control of everything. Come home to me.
She began tending the quiet places again.
Letting the metaphorical strawberries grow. Allowing her nervous system to rest.
And, leading herself through trust, not tension.
So when fear came again ... as it always does, she didn’t shut the door on it.
She opened her heart instead.
And whispered, “My softness is not a weakness. It's where my power lives.”
For context
I woke up from this dream with the song lyric, “Darling, won’t you take me home?” by Good Neighbors playing on repeat. ♾️
There were fragmented and frightened parts of my psyche panicking at the loss of control as I navigated the transition out of my corporate job.
The parts of me that feared vulnerability, chaos, and the unknown.
Of course, these subconscious shadows surface in my dreams as invaders + nightmares while I’m resting. Because I’m so used to being the one in control of everything. 😅
Because if I’m in control, I’m guaranteed safety, right? Or at least that’s what I would tell myself. 🙃
But I’m learning to soften and lean into the energy of trusting the moment without gripping onto the future.
Softness is trust.
- It's the courage to let beauty grow even after painful experiences.
- It's the strength of a heart that stays open.
- It's in knowing that at the deepest level of our soul, we're never truly alone.
Our power comes from surrender (solar plexus energy!), not control. 💛🪽
Venture within
- Where in your life do you still brace for harm instead of trusting that you're supported?
- What parts of yourself do you guard out of fear that something will be taken from you?
- Can you remember a time when unseen help arrived, even when you thought you were alone?
- What sweetness (joy, creativity, tenderness) within you feels most vulnerable to being “stolen,” and how might you protect it with love instead of fear?
- How would your life shift if you believed that surrender deepens your power rather than diminishes it?
