Back Into the Dream

For a little while, my candle burned quieter.

Life has a way of stepping into our dreams unannounced — not with spectacle, but with weight. In these past weeks/months, I lost two souls I loved deeply: my dog Light (my constant best friend and my soul) and my aunt, a while ago, who was like a second Mom to me. Grief doesn’t arrive loudly. It settles in. It changes the pace of breathing, the way words come out, the way time moves.

And for a while, I didn’t have words and time stopped for me in pain.

I moved slowly through days that felt heavier than usual, learning again that even dream-builders must step back into reality sometimes. That even those who create spaces of fantasy and connection still meet loss in the most human way possible — quietly, privately, and without a roadmap or a manual that is teaching them how to cope with it.

🕯 Grief in the Soft Spaces

Losing my dog, Light, reminded me how powerful unconditional love truly is — how presence alone can be healing, how the simplest routines become sacred after they disappear. I am still finding myself doing the little habits of preparing food for him or wishing to buy stuff for him.

Losing my aunt reminded me of the pain I had when I lost my Mom and made me live it again all over.

Grief didn’t shatter me — but it softened me.
It slowed me down.
It asked me to feel instead of perform.

And it reminded me that creation isn’t only born from passion or pleasure — sometimes it grows out of quiet sorrow too.

🌙 Why I’m Writing Back

I’m returning to this blog not because the heaviness is gone, but because I’ve learned that writing doesn’t require perfect clarity — only honesty. This space was never meant to be perfect. It was meant to be real. A perfectly imperfect space for us all.

So I’m writing from where I truly am:

Still grieving but learning how to cope with it.
Still dreaming and giving my best daily.
Still choosing to show up and leave a sparkling mark in your days.

The candle is still burning — softer, perhaps, but steadier than ever.

🌙 To Those Who Walk With Me

Thank you for your patience, your kindness, and your silent companionship during this pause — even if you never knew it was happening, least some of you. Whether you come here for inspiration, comfort, curiosity, or community, know that your presence matters more than you realize.

Grief reminds us that nothing truly meaningful is ever solitary.
We carry each other — sometimes without even knowing it.

So I write back into the dream not as someone untouched by sorrow, but as someone who has walked through it… and chosen to keep building.

Still here above ground – as a good friend keeps reminding me 😉
Still offering and giving my bestest.
Still shaping the dreams you have for me.

With Love From Transylvania,

Anna