It’s not about going faster. It’s about going deeper.
It’s about acknowledging and exploring the parts of the mind that are unexplored.
It’s about going past the polite smiles and social scripts, and stepping into the raw, untouched landscapes within.
At sixteen, when most teens were figuring out what they wanted to be, I walked away from certainty. I turned down a place at Birmingham Medical School. Instead, I packed a few clothes, a St. Christopher necklace, and thrust my thumb out on the side of a road. No destination. No plan. Just a need to feel something more.
Ten days later, I’d crossed Europe. I’d slept under stars, broken bread with strangers, and witnessed slices of humanity that cracked open my small-village upbringing.
Eventually, I landed on Rhodes, the southernmost edge of Europe. It was winter. Faliraki looked like a sleepy seaside town. I thought I’d found peace.
I was wrong.
Come summer, Faliraki turned feral. This was 1991, its golden age, and the town throbbed with music, lust, and liberation. I stayed for five years. Worked hard. Partied harder. Lived the dream teenagers fantasize about. But beneath the glow of sun and sweat, I saw something deeper.
Something that changed everything.
In the hazy heat of Faliraki nights, people unraveled.
Far from bosses and judgment, under the influence of sun and sambuca, the masks fell. Not the casual ones people wear at work. The real masks. The ones welded to their skin by society, parents, peers, and impossible expectations.
And when those masks slipped… the soul showed.
Some were twisted, contorted by rage, grief, and silent suffering. Like the haunted image of Dorian Gray, trapped behind decades of repression.
But most? They were heartbreakingly beautiful.
Like wild horses kept boxed too long, aching to run, to be, to breathe. I saw them race across the emotional plains of freedom, only to halt when it was time to return home. I watched the light dim. The mask reassembled. The box re-sealed.
And it hit me:
We are prisoners.
Not of bars or chains.
But of lives we were never meant to endure.
So I made a promise.
I would find a way to help people take those masks off, not just for a two-week holiday, but for life.
Think about it.
How do you feel on holiday?
Alive? Free? Limitless?
Now ask yourself, why shouldn’t life always feel that way?
That question became my compass.
It led me deeper. Beyond the physical world. Into the mysterious, wild inner terrain that most ignore. An internal landscape, more vast and profound than any country I’d crossed. And I realized: this was where real healing lived.
I dove in, starting with psychology, CBT, hypnotherapy. They were useful, but they felt too rigid. Like trying to map the Amazon rainforest by looking out your suburban window.
Then came the next revelation:
No two minds are alike.
No two pain points identical.
So why were we forcing people through one-size-fits-all solutions?
The answer wasn’t in creating something new. It was in remembering something ancient.
Dreams.
For millennia, dreams were sacred. Healers used them to guide transformation. But over time, that skill faded. The maps were lost. The guides forgotten.
I went searching. The way was long.
But at the end I created Sanomentology.
It’s not just therapy. It’s a gateway. A structured way to enter the dreamscape, not as passive observers but as conscious architects. We harness dreaming with intention, to guide, to reveal, to rewrite.
And it works.
Clients sweat when crossing dream deserts. They shiver in imaginary snow. Glasses fog as emotions rise. Pain dissolves. Stories shift. History transforms. Futures get written.
It’s not pretend.
To the mind, it’s real.
Through Sanomentology, lives are lived, explored, and reimagined. The mask begins to slip.
Bit by bit.
Until one day, it’s gone.
And freedom takes its place.
When you train to become a Sanomentology Practitioner, you are not just given a map and expected to follow a set path. You are given the full skills needed to explore and adapt to this unknown terrain, and to guide your clients through it with direction and purpose. It’s a GPS, a survival kit, a toolset, and it comes with me as your guide if you get lost.
Ready to explore?