Dream Debris, Soul Retrieval, and Kissing Ghosts
- Karen Di Gloria
- Jul 1
- 3 min read
Updated: Jul 13
I had a dream the other night.
I was kissing my ex.
Not the one I married—the love that felt familiar, like an old friend.
Not the most recent—the one that burned hot but couldn’t find balance.
But the one in between . . .
The one where the love felt like it touched something deeper in my soul—
even if he was too addicted to truly meet me there.
The one I gave a chance to, even though he wasn’t my “type” at first glance.
The one whose charm and fire pulled me in, then scorched me.
The one who denied his addiction, blamed the world, and sold poison like it was candy.
The one I finally walked away from when I realized I could die waiting for him to wake up.
It’s been years.
I don’t want him. I don’t even think I love him anymore.
But he still finds me in dreams sometimes.
Usually when I’m soft, vulnerable, open.
Like he’s lurking in my subconscious, asking for one last dance.
In this dream, we were kissing.
But it was off.
Our mouths didn’t know how to move together.
Our tongues felt disconnected—awkward, shallow, like trying to dance with a ghost.
And even in the dream, I was thinking about the women he’s been with.
Their energy.
Low-grade. Frenzied. Not something I wanted to absorb.
I pulled back.
I felt it: I wanted the intimacy, the closeness, the kiss.
But not like that.
Not with that energy.
Not at that cost.
Suddenly we were apart, speaking from a distance—maybe on a phone.
And I told him,
“I want to . . . but it doesn’t feel right.”
This dream wasn’t about him.
It was about me.
About the last threads of energy still left tangled in that chapter of my life.
About the parts of me that used to settle for almost, because it was better than nothing.
About how far I’ve come in discerning what I let into my body, my energy, my soul.
He represented a version of love I once accepted:
addicted, chaotic, charming, unreachable.
But I’m not that woman anymore.
My body knew it in the dream.
The kiss didn’t land.
The connection felt haunted.
The women around him reminded me:
I’ve raised my standards. I don’t merge with that anymore.
I think dreams like this are soul-retrieval missions.
You visit old places not to stay, but to take back the parts of yourself you left behind.
Your voice.
Your sensuality.
Your sacred no.
I used to kiss men who didn’t know how to kiss with depth.
Now I’m learning to kiss the divine.
And the next time love meets me—
he’ll know how to meet me there, too.
Have you ever felt the ghost of an old love show up in your body, your dreams, or your thoughts—long after your heart has moved on?
Sometimes, it's not about missing them, but about recovering a piece of you that got left behind.
If this resonates, try sitting with these questions:
What part of me is still seeking closure—not with the person, but with the version of myself who once loved them?
Where does my body still carry the echo of an old bond I’ve outgrown, and what is it asking me to reclaim?
Can I honor the kiss that never landed as a sign that I’m finally choosing something deeper?
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Walking our own sacred path,
Karen Di Gloria
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