Cinderella's New Shoes

Finding the shoes that align with your essence.

Have you ever had to walk a mile in shoes that hurt your feet because they didn’t fit quite right? I certainly have—both literally and metaphorically! It’s never a pleasant experience, yet I’ve insisted on wearing them for far too long. Recently, this happened during a weekend trip to Paris. After hours of walking, I realized that my favorite sneakers just weren’t the right fit. In the past, I would’ve kept wearing them out of stubbornness, but this time, I gave them away and found a pair that suited me better.

It’s funny how waking life and dreams go hand in hand, reflecting the deeper journeys we’re on. Just as I outgrew those shoes in Paris, I recently had a dream that revealed how I’m outgrowing old aspects of my life and stepping into something new.

The dream unfolded like this:

I’m in an ice rink, lacing up my skates, but I only have one. Desperately, I focus with all my might, trying to manifest the missing skate. For a brief moment, the magic works, and I have both skates on, but it quickly fades. I’m left walking barefoot across the ice, searching. The rink keeps shifting locations, and I feel a growing urgency to find the other skate before the rink disappears entirely. Suddenly, I’m transported elsewhere—a long hallway, and now, I’m holding a pair of bright pink shoes.

I put on the shoes, and as I walk down the hall, a tall, dark-skinned man approaches me. He looks intently at the shoes. “These shoes belonged to a princess,” he says. “She won many battles in them, and they’re known for carrying people to victory.”

I sit down, absorbing his words, and look at the shoes. They do seem like princess shoes, but they show no signs of wear—not what I’d expect from shoes worn into battle. The man kneels down, holds my foot, and inspects the shoes closely. “They’re a bit too loose,” he comments. Instinctively, I pull my foot back, replying, “They fit perfectly—any smaller, and they’d be uncomfortable.” The man says nothing more, and I stand up, continuing my journey.

This dream felt like a mirror reflecting the transformation I’ve been experiencing in my life. For years, I used to joke that I was a “human doer”—constantly busy, always moving from one task to another, with figure skating at the center of it all. It frustrated me that my body didn’t seem to enjoy this pace, but I pushed myself past my limits, convinced that being active was a core part of my identity.

Recently, life invited me to pause. I began listening to my body and letting it take the lead. If I didn’t feel like working out, I wouldn’t force it—I’d take a rest or read instead. Over time, I realized that being busy wasn’t who I am—it was simply a response to my environment.

In the dream, losing my skate on the ice rink symbolized this shift. Ice skating, a representation of the action-oriented part of me, was slipping away. The vanishing rink was telling me that this chapter of constant “doing” was coming to an end, and clinging to it would only lead to frustration. The pink shoes I found in their place symbolized a new path—one aligned with feminine energy, inner transformation, and being rather than constant outward action.

The man in the dream, who I see as a shadow figure representing balance and wisdom, delivered a key message: these shoes would carry me to victory. But they were "a bit too loose," meaning I’m still growing into this new phase of life. I haven’t fully stepped into this path yet, but I’m on the right track. The shoes, unscathed by battles, show that this path is one of inner transformation rather than external achievements.

We all wear “shoes” in life—roles, identities, or personality traits we’ve adopted along the way. But sometimes, those shoes no longer fit. The journey isn’t about clinging to what we’ve outgrown; it’s about finding the ones that align with our essence.

The shadow figure in the dream reveals that true victory and success are not about external accomplishments but about walking your unique path and finding peace in being exactly who you are.

So dear reader, do your shoes fit perfectly, or is it time for a new pair?