I Have Many Dreams, Do You?

NOTE THIS WAS WRITTEN EARLY FEBRUARY AND I THOUGHT I HAD POSTED IT BUT IT'S NEVER TOO LATE AND IT'S STILL RELEVANT

Dreams: A Journey Through Time, Spirit, and Consciousness

In light of Martin Luther King Jr. Day this week, I’ve been reflecting on the profound concept of dreams. While Dr. King’s iconic “I Have a Dream” speech has shaped history, this post isn’t about that dream—it’s about dreams in their many forms. Since the beginning of time, I’ve been a dreamer, and dreaming was the first gift I discovered upon arriving on the earthly plane.

Over the years, I’ve unraveled layers of my ancestry, lineage, and spirit, often guided by dreams and the unseen realms. My nana, my mother’s mother, was also a dreamer. Recently, I discovered that she kept journals of her dreams throughout her life. Dreams have been a bridge between these realms, offering me insights, guidance, and connections that have shaped my life.

The Grand Canyon: A Portal of Dreaming

Years ago, during a December full supermoon, I traveled to the Grand Canyon with a dear friend. It was an impromptu journey that turned into an unforgettable spiritual experience. The land’s energy was palpable, and everything felt aligned, from the sunset to the unexpected upgrade of our hotel room.

While exploring a museum at the canyon, I felt a powerful pull to collect some driftwood—a practice I now realize connects to ancestral ties. Little did I know then that the Mojave Tribe, whose dreams shaped their spiritual and cultural practices, once called this area along the Colorado River home. Through a divination reading in the following years with my cousin, I learned about a spirit guide from the Mojave Tribe, who has walked with me in every reincarnation. I wondered if I was a part of their family in a past incarnation. When my cousin revealed my guide, everything clicked. The sticks I had collected, the spiritual pull of the canyon, and my dreams all wove together of ancestral connection.

The Mojave people honored dreams as sacred, using them to guide their leaders, medicine people, and communities. Their ceremonies included singing cycles of dreamed songs that retold myths and journeys, reinforcing their identity and spiritual strength. Learning about their practices illuminated why dreams have always felt like a cornerstone of my own spiritual path.

The sky transformed into a breathtaking masterpiece as the sun set over the canyon. My friend and I shared a joint, reminiscing about our college years and spiritual journeys, while the horizon reflected the moon's ascent.

When the moon rose, it was enormous—so close that I felt I could reach out and touch it. The air felt heavy, like the moon’s energy was pressing down on everything. Later that evening, back at the hotel, I realized I couldn’t sleep. My chest felt weighed down, and the cannabis still in my system heightened the sensation. It wasn’t an anxious feeling, but it was intense—like I was caught in the moon's gravitational pull.

This experience was entirely new for me. I had always appreciated cannabis as a companion for relaxation or heightened clarity, but that night was different. The combination of the moon’s immense presence and cannabis’s lingering effects felt overwhelming, as if my body and spirit were struggling to settle under such powerful forces.

Cannabis and Dreamwork: A Complicated Relationship

Cannabis entered my life during college. My first experience was lighthearted but ineffective—I didn’t even know how to inhale properly! Over time, I developed a relationship with cannabis that was both beautiful and challenging.

Initially, cannabis felt like a tool for relaxation and creativity, but as my spiritual journey deepened, I noticed how it began to interfere with my dreams. Sativa strains heightened my anxiety, and even indica-forward hybrids clouded my mind, creating a fog that dulled my ability to receive clear messages through dreams.

When the pandemic forced us into isolation, many of us turned to substances to cope. I realized that while cannabis has its place in ritual and introspection, it required mindfulness and moderation to avoid hindering my spiritual gifts.

Cannabis in Shamanic Practices

Shamanism is an ancient spiritual practice that predates organized religions and spans cultures worldwide. At its core, it is about connection—between the physical and spiritual realms, the self and the collective, the human and the divine. Shamans serve as intermediaries, navigating unseen dimensions to heal, guide, and retrieve wisdom for their communities.

The word "shaman" comes from the Tungus people of Siberia, but similar practices exist across continents: the Sangomas of South Africa, the Curanderos of Central America, and the medicine people of Native American tribes. What unites these traditions is the belief that all beings are interconnected and that the spirit world holds answers to our earthly dilemmas.

One of the most powerful tools in shamanic work is the altered state of consciousness, achieved through drumming, chanting, breathwork, fasting, and the sacred use of psychoactive plants. These states allow shamans to journey into the "Otherworld," encountering spirit allies, ancestors, and archetypal energies. Herbs were selected and used with intention; their properties were carefully matched to the purpose of the ritual or healing. Each herb carried unique energetic qualities and was chosen not only for its practical effects but also for its symbolic and spiritual resonance.

Dreams hold a unique place in shamanic traditions. They are seen not as random neural firings but as messages from the divine. Many indigenous cultures view dreaming as a practice in itself—a skill to be cultivated and honored. For the Mojave Tribe, dreaming was central to their leadership and medicine practices. Leaders were often chosen based on the clarity and depth of their dreams, which were considered a direct line to divine guidance.

Cannabis has been revered in many spiritual traditions for its ability to bridge the physical and spiritual realms. In shamanic practices, it’s used to expand consciousness, connect with spirit guides, and access visionary states. When approached with reverence, cannabis can enhance spiritual rituals, but it’s not a one-size-fits-all tool. In no way I'm saying what has worked for others will work for you.

If you’re considering incorporating cannabis into your spiritual work, intentionality is key:

• Choose the Right Strain: Sativas can energize and uplift, while Indica support relaxation and introspection.

• Set an Intention: Approach cannabis as a sacred tool, not a recreational escape.

• Dose Mindfully: Start small and listen to your body to find the right balance.

Herbs for Dreaming and Rituals

Some herbs enhance dreaming, while others create protection or ground the practitioner during rituals.

Herbs for Dreaming

1. Mugwort (Artemisia vulgaris): Known as the "dream herb," mugwort enhances lucid dreaming and facilitates journeying. Burn it as incense or brew it into a tea before bedtime.

2. Blue Lotus (Nymphaea caerulea):  This flower induces euphoria and vivid dreams, often used in sacred rites to connect with the divine.

3. Valerian Root: While primarily known for relaxation, valerian can deepen sleep and make dream recall sharper.

4. Calea Zacatechichi ("Dream Herb"): A favorite of the Chontal people of Mexico, this herb enhances dream clarity and provides profound visions.

5. Yarrow was commonly used to stop bleeding and for protection against negative spiritual influences.

Herbs for Ritual Work

1. Frankincense and Myrrh: These resins, burned during ceremonies, purify the space and raise spiritual vibrations.

2. Hyssop: Used for cleansing and protection, hyssop helps release spiritual blockages.

3. Rue: A powerful protector, rue wards off negative energies and enhances spiritual vision.

4. Bay leaves were often burned to amplify intuition and aid in receiving prophetic dreams

5. Juniper was burned to create a protective barrier during ceremonies.

6. Sage was burned to cleanse the energy field and purify spaces.

Ritual Offerings

Herbs were offered to the spirits of the land, ancestors, or deities as part of ceremonies.

1. Tobacco is a universal offering in many indigenous traditions, symbolizing respect and connection.

2. Cornmeal and herbal bundles were laid on altars or sprinkled in sacred spaces as acts of gratitude and reverence.

Dreaming as a Sacred Gift

I no longer bring flowers into my home, and I’ve significantly reduced how often I smoke. I’ve experimented with edibles but learned that keeping them in my system interferes with my dream work. Rarely do I smoke and sip tea at sunrise, meditating to receive a download. However, through conversations with other medicine women, I’ve heard mixed experiences: some have felt mounted by spirits during their cannabis journey, while others have received their most profound downloads.

Dreams have always been my portal to understanding the world beyond the veil. They’ve connected me to my ancestry, offered warnings and blessings, and illuminated paths I didn’t even know existed. Whether enhanced by cannabis, strengthened by ancestral ties, or honored as they come, dreams remain one of the most profound ways to connect with the divine. Let’s celebrate the power of dreams—not just as a vision for a better future but as a sacred gift that ties us to our past, our present, and the vast mysteries of the universe.

What are your dreams trying to tell you?

Everything Isn’t Shit: Reflections on Realignment, Spirit, and Friendship

This year, I found myself leaning into Spirit more than ever before. At times, I leaned so hard it turned into a crutch—a bit embarrassing to admit, but hey, we’re being honest here. Life threw me into a blender, and I was grasping for clarity, comfort, and support. Thankfully, my Babalawo, who has a way of cutting through my mental fog like a spiritual machete, offered the clarity I needed.

On my 34th birthday, I sat with him for my second reading of the year. It was magic, plain and simple. He reminded me that Elegua, my spirit papa, wasn’t tricking me or being mischievous; he was redirecting me. Elegua was busy cleaning house, shutting doors, and clearing paths that no longer served me. It wasn’t a punishment but a necessary nudge forward.

Baba’s advice hit differently in December. At first, I resisted—wondering who and what needed to go. But now, I see it. Some of the comfort zones I’ve clung to since my 20s have outlived their purpose. And my Capricorn friend introduced me to a term that cracked the code: social capital. It opened my eyes to the people I held on to, not for genuine connection, but because of the roles we played for each other.

I’m not burning bridges (I’m a lover, not a pyromaniac), but I am phasing out relationships and habits that no longer align with my growth. Spirit said, “Nope, not right now,” and I’ve learned to trust that.

Elegua’s Wisdom and the Weight of Knowing

As a child of Elegua, I’ve realized that our gift of knowing comes with responsibility. We can sense shifts before they happen, which often makes us the villain in other people’s stories. But being true to ourselves means we have to make the hard calls—even when no one else understands.

This year, I’ve leaned into that wisdom, learning to let connections take their time. Gone are the days of love-bombing new friendships or expecting instant depth. If we’ve known each other for less than a year, we’re not close friends yet—and that’s okay. Good things take time to grow.

Healing from Friendship Wounds

Friendship has been a mixed bag for me. Childhood trauma and a big friendship breakup during the pandemic left scars. I stopped calling people because, in my neuro-spicy brain, being the one to initiate felt like an imposition. If someone called me, it felt like a sign they had the capacity to hold space for me that day.

But this year, I struggled in silence. I didn’t know who could hold me, and I didn’t have the capacity to hold others the way I wanted to. It’s a cycle I’m ready to break.

I want to restart how I approach friendships. I’m learning to be clear about what I need. I thrive on in-person hangouts where I can be fully engaged. Texting back, DMing, and emailing often slip through the cracks, but tell me, “Hey, call me—I like hearing from you,” and I’ll light up.

I’m also re-tuning myself to align with the people and habits that are good for my soul. Not everything is bad; not everything is shit. Elegua isn’t shutting every door. Some things are meant to stay, grow, and nourish me. I’m so grateful for the people who remind me to show up, reach out, and trust that I’m enough.

Moving Forward with Elegua’s Guidance

As I wrap up this year, I’m holding onto Elegua’s wisdom: keep moving forward, trust the redirection, and don’t fight the clearing. The right people, places, and opportunities will align when I let go of what no longer serves me.

To everyone out there navigating their own transitions: trust your process. Everything isn’t shit.

Bem vindo ao Brasil

At the Crossroads: A Journey to Brazil, Elegua, and Self

When I set foot in Brazil this past November, I had no idea how transformative the experience would be. As a Black woman in her 30s, navigating life, spirituality, and community has always felt like standing at a crossroads—a constant dance between the sacred and the mundane, the seen and unseen. This trip, though? It felt like Elegua himself was holding open the gate, whispering, "Come on in, it’s time."

Elegua at the Crossroads

For those unfamiliar, Elegua is the Orisha of doors, thresholds, and new beginnings. Receiving him earlier this year marked a turning point in my spiritual journey. At first, I was like, “Excuse me, Elegua? Aren’t I Oya’s child?” But the more I reflected, the more it made sense. Elegua’s energy has been a quiet but consistent presence in my life, guiding me to every “random” connection, every pivotal decision, every open door.

Brazil made that even clearer. From the clothes I wore to the rituals I observed, everything felt divinely orchestrated. I started to see the threads of my journey—the people, places, and lessons—woven into a tapestry that only Elegua could have crafted.

Lessons from the Land

Bahia, specifically Salvador, is a place where African spirituality is alive and thriving. Every terriero and ile (spiritual house) we visited felt like stepping into a living library. The seamless blend of the sacred and the everyday amazed me. I remember seeing cats lounging near altars, turtles wandering through courtyards, and people casually praying in between their daily tasks. It was a powerful reminder that spirituality isn’t separate from life; it is life.

The Sisters of the Good Death also left a lasting impression. These women, guardians of African and Catholic traditions, treated us like their own. Their kindness and wisdom were humbling. They spoke openly about misconceptions surrounding African Traditional Religions (ATRs), emphasizing that these practices are about liberation, connection, and love—not fear or “darkness” as they are often misrepresented.

Building Bridges and Finding Family

One of the most beautiful takeaways from this trip was the sense of community. I met God cousins, God aunties, and spiritual siblings I didn’t even know I needed. Mama Oseye, one of our guides, reminded me that no single spiritual house can teach you everything. “It’s okay to have community everywhere,” she said, as long as it aligns with your path.

Back home, I’ve often felt lost in the sea of my own Ile (spiritual house). As a Virgo, I crave structure, learning, and one-on-one mentorship. But I realized that growth sometimes requires stepping out of your comfort zone and building bridges with others. This trip gave me that clarity and the courage to seek what I need, even if it means moving differently.

Moving Forward with Elegua

2024 was a year of stripping away—letting go of relationships, habits, and even parts of myself that no longer served me. As we approach 2025, I’m stepping into what feels like an entirely new life. But what does that even mean? For me, it’s about refining my gifts, deepening my spiritual practice, and building community with intention.

Elegua has taught me that every choice, every path, leads to a lesson. And while the road ahead may not always be clear, I trust that the doors meant for me will open. Brazil was just the beginning, a reminder that at every crossroads, I have the power to choose love, growth, and alignment.

A Note to My Siblings

If you’re feeling stuck, confused, or at a crossroads in your own life, let me leave you with this: Listen to your gut. Trust your intuition. Seek out mentors and community that genuinely care for your spirit. And remember, it’s okay to not have it all figured out. The journey is the destination.

Here’s to stepping boldly into 2025—with Elegua at the helm and the spirit of Brazil in my heart. Ase