The Marble Doorway: A Dream That Reminded Me Not to Fold

The Dream

Last night I had one of those stress dreams that twists itself into a maze.

I was back at work with two of my old employers, one of them my ex-boss. We were walking through the building — strange things happening all around us, like the building itself was alive with distractions. Finally, we made it to her car. She was going to drive me somewhere.

We got in, and I suddenly realized: I forgot my purse.

I told her I’d run back in for it. No need for all three of us to go, I said. She looked nervous, pressed for time, but she agreed.

I ran back inside. First obstacle: I needed a man to manually operate the elevator just to get me to my floor. He guided me up, I grabbed my stuff — but then I couldn’t find my way out. The main entrance I always used was gone. No one seemed to know where it was. The building stretched on forever, hallways looping, people shrugging when I asked for directions.

I began to panic. My ex-boss was waiting, probably getting late, and here I was — lost.

The man stayed with me. I was grateful. He tried helping, even asked others. Still no luck.

Then — twist. Suddenly I wasn’t at work anymore. I was at college. The entrance I was describing to people had transformed in my mind into this massive, grand thing — up a hill, with marble floors. One woman remembered it, but she couldn’t point the way from inside.

The man eventually brought me into a room — and there was my dad, lying in a hospital bed. His wife sat across from him. He was on the phone. I asked her, Why didn’t you tell me

Dad was in the hospital? She insisted she had. She blamed my “vegan brain” for forgetting. For a moment, I questioned myself. Maybe she was right? But the man beside me — the one helping me — spoke up. He’d heard our conversation. No, she never said that.

Dad got off the phone and, instead of greeting me, immediately interrogated the man. Who are you? What credentials do you have? My father’s voice was sharp, judgmental. The man calmly replied that he was a certified volunteer. I could see my father was about to get nasty. And in that moment, something rose in me. I cut it off: Dad, we are not going there. There’s no need to get you worked up in the hospital. Have a good day.

I felt it — the line in the sand. I was not going to let him diminish the man who had helped me. I was not going to let him diminish me.

We walked away.

By then I just wanted to call my ex-boss and tell her: Don’t wait. Don’t worry about driving me. This man will get me where I need to go. Except — another twist. I couldn’t find my phone. Panic again. He had it, safe in his pocket, and gave it back. I fumbled, unable to find her number.

And then it all dissolved.

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The Emotions

The whole dream was thick with stress. Running late. Losing things. Panicking about making someone else late. Wandering buildings where no one could help me. Feeling shut out by family. Second-guessing myself when gaslit. Watching my father dismiss the very person who stood by me.

And underneath it all, this one drumbeat: I can’t find the entrance.

That marble doorway was supposed to be there. Big, grand, undeniable. Yet no one knew the way.

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The Reflection

When I woke up, I saw it for what it was.

The ex-boss and the father? Old authority. The critics. The ones who try to drive me, interrogate me, keep me small.

The Black man who stayed with me? A new archetype of help. Calm, steady, service over ego. My shadow transformed into an ally.

The marble doorway? My threshold. The one I can’t force, can’t rush, can’t logic my way into.

And the stress? That’s Saturn and Neptune right now in my 4th house — tearing down old foundations, dissolving the familiar entrances, forcing me to sit in the liminal. Pluto’s testing my worth. Uranus is shaking up who gets to drive me. And Jupiter in my 8th house is blowing up every shadow contract so I can finally, finally stand firm.

This dream wasn’t punishment. It was rehearsal. My soul saying: Don’t fold.

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The Reminder

So here it is, written down, anchored, sealed:

I honor my worth. I will not fold. Anything meant for me will respect my soul’s work.

And so it is.

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With deep respect for your journey,

Karen Di Gloria ✨

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