There are places in the world where time collapses.
In the summer of 2017, I boarded a plane alone and flew across the ocean to Scotland, chasing an itch I couldn’t quite name. I told people I was going to hike, to write, to practice photography. All of that was true. But if I’m honest, I think I went looking for ghosts.
Not the scary kind—the ancient kind.
I ended up on Orkney, that cluster of windswept islands north of the Scottish mainland, where the Neolithic past sits startlingly close to the surface. It was there, walking among stone circles and moss-covered tombs older than the pyramids, that something in my neurodivergent brain snapped awake. I didn’t know it then, but that trip would seed the roots of the series I call Dreaming the Revolution.
Stones, Stories, and Synapses
I visited the Ness of Brodgar. Touched the standing stones at Stenness. Climbed the green mound of Maeshowe. I had a private tour with a local guide who described ancient rituals as if he remembered them firsthand. It felt like slipping through a portal—like brushing the edge of something just out of reach but very much alive.
And the spheres. The carved stone balls of Scotland, mysterious and mathematically perfect. I couldn’t stop thinking about them—what were they for? Why do some of them seem like tools, others like talismans? Who held them last?
That tension—between knowledge and imagination, between scientific theory and myth—lit something up in me.
Neurotypical brains might catalogue these mysteries and move on. Mine doesn’t. Mine spirals. It builds worlds, characters, and connections out of fragments. It wonders what if these artifacts aren’t just relics of the past, but echoes from futures we’ve forgotten how to dream.
Dreaming the Revolution
Dreaming the Revolution didn’t start as a TV series. It started as a question: What if we remembered everything we’ve forgotten?
The series I’m developing is grounded in mystery, memory, and resistance. It follows a neurodivergent protagonist who discovers that her dreams are more than symbolic—she’s tapping into an ancestral archive buried deep in the land itself. The show is part psychological thriller, part speculative history, part coming-of-awareness tale. And yes, elements of Orkney, Scotland, and other ancient places show up—sometimes literally, sometimes layered into the bones of the world.
Some of the stories I’m working on blur the lines between science and spirit. Others explore how colonialism erased entire cosmologies—and how modern characters might reassemble what was broken. These aren’t just stories about the past. They’re stories about what happens when we stop treating the past like it’s over.
Why This Matters
I’m sharing this now because I think the why behind our stories matters. I don’t just want to write and produce content for content’s sake. I want to create experiences that feel like finding an artifact you didn’t know you’d lost.
If you’ve ever stood in a place that felt bigger than time, or had a dream that felt like someone else’s memory, you might be part of my audience. If you’ve ever been called too much for being intense, curious, or “weirdly obsessed” with old things—same. You’re in good company here.
There’s a revolution in remembering. And I plan to keep dreaming it into existence.
🔁 Coming Up Next
I’ll be sharing more from behind the scenes as I move forward with Dreaming the Revolution and other projects. Watch for my “learning in public” updates as I tackle Unreal Engine and build my visual worlds from the ground up.
If you’re curious about the stone spheres or want a visual, I created an image inspired by the real artifacts here ➤
You can also read more about my in-development projects at White Raven Pictures.
