I had a dream the other night that stayed with me long after I opened my eyes.

Not the kind you forget by breakfast—

but the kind that feels more real than reality.

The kind that lingers in your body,

like a prophecy whispered softly from heaven.

In the dream, I was in the mountains.

The golden sun was kissing through the trees,

casting warmth on everything it touched.

It was my wedding day.

But not the kind I used to imagine.

There was no crowd.

No aisle.

No chaos.

Just me and the man I was meant to find.

I never saw his face—only the back of his head.

But I felt him.

His presence, his peace, his love.

He wrapped his arms around my waist,

and I rested mine around his neck—

as if we were dancing to a silent song only our souls could hear.

We stood at the edge of a mountain,

the sky painted in soft light,

not quite sunset, but almost.

A pastor stood beside us in a flowing white gown, holding a Bible.

And I had a crown on my head—

woven from twigs and wildflowers,

simple and sacred, like something born of the Earth.

I wore an off-white dress.

Not flashy. Not tight.

Just… me.

Elegant in its stillness.

Beautiful in its truth.

And even though I wasn’t in my body—

I was watching from above, like a drone capturing sacred memory—

I could feel everything.

His hands.

The way he looked at me.

The way it felt to be loved without performance, without pressure.

Not in a way that consumed me,

but in a way that held me.

Grounded me.

Chose me.

It wasn’t lust.

It wasn’t for show.

It was love.

Real, embodied, aligned love.

Growing up, I thought I wanted a big wedding.

Then I got older and imagined a smaller one—maybe fifty people.

But this dream…

it reminded me what a wedding actually is.

Not a performance.

Not a spectacle.

But a sacred covenant.

A moment between two souls who are ready.

Ready to join.

To grow.

To love each other the way God designed us to.

I woke up knowing—

when that love finds me,

it will be quiet and breathtaking all at once.

It will not ask me to prove myself.

It will not rush.

It will not be for the world.

It will be for us.

For God.

For the life we’re building from the inside out.

And even if it doesn’t happen exactly as it did in the dream,

I know the feeling will be the same.

Because I am becoming her—

the woman who can receive that kind of love.

And he, wherever he is,

is becoming him—

the man who can hold it.

What’s meant for me will not miss me.

God is not withholding.

He is aligning.

And I am readying my heart for the day our eyes meet—

not just across a mountain,

but across a lifetime.

✨ Quote to Close:

“Love doesn’t arrive with noise—it comes with knowing.

You won’t need to chase it, prove it, or question it.

When it’s real, you’ll just feel it.

Like sunlight through the trees—quiet, warm, and true.”

— A Home Within

📝 Journal Prompt:

What are my earliest memories of what love or marriage was “supposed” to look like?

Which of those were shaped by culture, and which were shaped by truth?

If I could design a sacred union that feels completely aligned with my soul, what would it look and feel like?

No guests. No performance.

Just presence, God, and peace.

Always

Casandra