Dear Dream, You Were Talking About Me

What Chris Martin, Elsa, and a Spilled Tea Taught Me About Releasing My Voice

I’ve Been Holding My Breath

Lately, I’ve been holding my breath—creatively, emotionally, spiritually. Not out of fear exactly… more like tension. Like I’m about to say something that matters and I don’t know how it’s going to land.

The other night, I had a dream.

Chris Martin—yes, the Coldplay frontman—had just released a new song. In the dream, I saw him hesitate. He wasn’t sure how it would be received. But then came the response: joy, love, celebration. His face lit up like a sky of fireworks. And as I watched him take it in, something in me exhaled.

I woke up with the deep, quiet knowing: That dream wasn’t just about him. It was about me.

The Dream That Reflected Me Back to Myself

Watching Chris beam in the dream stirred something sacred. He wasn’t just basking in applause—he was basking in relief. The kind of relief that only comes after you’ve risked being misunderstood, and someone gets it anyway.

That’s the space I’ve been living in lately as I prepare to release my book. I’ve been pouring over fonts, adjusting margins, second-guessing whether I’m sharing too much. I’ve spilled tea, skipped dinners, and stared at my laptop like it owes me an apology.

But beneath all of that is one real, vulnerable question:

Will anyone receive what I’ve written with joy? Or will it just… slip past them?

“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” — Howard Thurman

The Creative Risk

Let’s be honest: sharing your voice is terrifying. It’s not just about people reading your words—it’s about people knowing you. And what if they don’t get it? Or worse, what if they do, and still walk away?

I’ve been opening up old, private journals in the form of haiku. Some are about grief. Others are simple reflections on quiet beauty. And yet, putting them out there feels like handing strangers the coordinates to my soul.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind.” — 2 Timothy 1:7

Fear will show up. But it doesn’t get to hold the pen. Power, love, and clarity do.

The Fear of Being Too Much

The dream reminded me of Elsa from Frozen. She hid her power because it scared her—and others. She tried so hard to suppress her gift, believing that staying quiet was safer than being seen.

But when she let go—when she finally embraced who she was—everything changed. The landscape around her bloomed. What once was frozen became alive.

That’s what I feel this book is doing to me.

And I think maybe… it’s what your gifts are waiting to do through you, too.

“You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have.” — Maya Angelou

The Spilled Tea Moment (And Why It Mattered)

Later that evening, while obsessing over my cover design for the twentieth time, I knocked over my tea. It spread across the table like a slow, deliberate reminder that I was running on empty. I just stood there, staring. Tired. Frustrated. The kind of weary that makes even anger feel like too much work.

And then I just… shrugged. A quiet laugh bubbled up inside me—half amusement, half surrender. I grabbed paper towels and started cleaning up the mess. Maybe the spill wasn’t a setback. Maybe it was a reminder to pause.

Because isn’t that exactly what the creative process looks like sometimes? Messy. Unpredictable. Spilled and sacred, all at once.

“The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and He helps me.”— Psalm 28:7

I whispered a prayer, wiped the mess, and returned to my screen—because I knew the book still had something to say.

Soul Insights

1. Vulnerability is the soil where meaning grows.

Real art doesn’t come from polish—it comes from presence. If I’m not a little scared to share it, it’s probably not my truth yet. Releasing your voice means releasing your grip on control, and that’s where real connection lives.

2. Fear isn’t the enemy—silencing yourself is.

Fear will always have something to say. But when I stop speaking because I’m afraid of being misunderstood, I deny others the chance to resonate. I’ve learned that the risk of expression is always less dangerous than the regret of holding it in.

3. Creativity is a sacred mess.

There are tea spills and skipped dinners and weird spirals about fonts. And somehow, that’s holy ground. God doesn’t need clean lines to move through our work—just willingness and a heart that keeps coming back.

4. Our gifts are not just for us.

When I wrote this book, I thought I was writing for myself. But I’ve come to believe that someone, somewhere, is going to find themselves in these pages. I might never meet them, but I’ll know I offered them something real.

5. Sometimes God speaks when we’re too tired to listen.

That dream wasn’t just random—it was soul language. I was too drained to hear encouragement through the noise, so God sent it to me through imagery and emotion. Dreams can be divine reminders that your story still matters—even when you’re questioning everything.

Final Reflections: For the Ones Afraid to Release What’s Inside

If you’ve been holding something back—an idea, a book, a song, a piece of truth—you’re not alone. I get it. I know what it feels like to wonder if what you carry is too much, too raw, or too unseen.

But I also know what it feels like to imagine someone receiving it and saying, “Me too.”

You are not too much. You are not behind.

You are simply becoming.

So go ahead—release what you’ve been holding back.

Let it be messy. Let it be misunderstood.

Let it be magnificent.

“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.” — Banksy

Your Turn.

Have you ever held back a gift, afraid it might be misunderstood? Or shared something vulnerable and been surprised by how it was received?

Leave a comment below—I’d love to hear your story. And if this post spoke to something in you… share it with someone who might need to hear it too.

Soul Path Insights