The Dream That Sank Me (So I Could Rise)

I turned 45. I posted something big on LinkedIn. Something I’ve sat with for a long time. I finally said it:

I’ve moved on, but I haven’t left.

After two decades in economics, data strategy, and building an award-winning AI company (Maven Data), I had finally to public that I’ve chosen a different path. A more ancient one. A path not of prediction, but of presence. Not of algorithms, but of alignment.

I now work with the Subconscious—the higher aspect of your consciousness—to ask life’s biggest questions.

So, it’s fitting that the night before I declared this publicly, I had one hell of a dream.
And I want to share it with you, because it says everything about where we are as a collective right now—and why I do what I do.

Scene 1: The Cult Boat

I was on a private cruise liner with a group that felt like an elite club.
Everyone seemed to know the rules—except me.
There was a “training” session: part martial arts, part performance.
Everyone moved in sync.
Except me.

The instructor—a bullish, adored man—singled people out and berated them.
He bullied me.
And everyone else just… let it happen.
They worshipped him.
I thought, What the hell is this?

I later found out he'd been bodybuilding since he was ten.
A lifetime of building the outer shell.
No wonder he’d become a cult figure.
Strong on the outside.
Hollow on the inside.

Scene 2: The Sinking

Then the boat started sinking.
Everyone knew it would.
It was planned.

Except no one told me.

I watched my bag—my laptop—get drenched.
Work. Tools. Data. Gone.

I was furious.
Why didn’t anyone say anything?
They shrugged. “Not my problem.”
Even an old friend—someone I knew from childhood—abandoned me.
That hit deep.

I stood up and said, “I hate this place.”
And you could feel the air change.
Apparently, honesty was taboo.
They started looking at me like I was the problem.

But I didn't back down.
I’d had enough of pretending.
Of playing the part.
Of being in rooms where the rules were never meant to include me.

Scene 3: The Rusted Tower

Later, I found myself climbing a rusted, open-air tower.
Dangerous. Exposed. No guardrails.
But I found a strange crane-lift and took it to the top.

Up there?
Just an empty, windy floor.
Unstable. Pointless.
And I thought—Is this what success is supposed to feel like?

The Message Beneath the Dream

This wasn’t just a dream.
It was a message.

The boat was the old world.
The cult. The systems. The unspoken rules.
Where strength is worshipped, vulnerability is mocked, and nobody tells you it’s all about to go under.

The tower?
That was the so-called path to the top.
Unstable. Lonely. And ultimately, empty.

And me?
I’m not doing that anymore.
I’ve moved on.

New Moon, New Balance

Last night, at my birthday dinner, I was asked: What’s your New Moon intention?

Without thinking, I said:
Balance.
For the world.
For every person trying to hold themselves together in a world that’s wildly out of sync.

Because healing starts within. Balance starts within. And that’s what I’m here to do now:
Help people shift. Out of the cult. Out of the noise. Back into their own knowing. Into inner peace and balance.

If this resonates, you’re not alone. If you’ve felt the boat start to sink or the tower wobble beneath your feet—
Maybe it’s time. To move on, too.

I’m still here. Just in a new frequency.

Come find me.

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