About Julia Esta
My dreams as a child were so vivid—so alive—they often felt more real than daylight. Imagination and intuition danced together, and I lived somewhere in between. I grew up in a troubled home where the unseen world often felt more comforting than the one I could touch. On many occasions Angels would sing to me as I fell asleep. I went through a period between the ages of 3 and 7 where my dreams were so vivid I would wake disoriented - tasting, smelling, hearing what wasn’t physically there. I would rush to my mother, disoriented and seeking comfort—still holding the sounds, sensations, and images that lingered long after I woke.
As I grew older, those dreams began to come true.
Sometimes they came as quiet knowings - gentle insights about my family, or people and places I knew. Other times they came as warnings - like the visions I had in the weeks leading up to 9/11, where I dreamt of planes crashing into buildings, skies split with fire.
There were spirits too.
Frequent visitors. Fleeting messages.
Truths I just knew.
In my twenties, those gifts quieted beneath the noise of motherhood and the weight of an unhappy life. I was too busy surviving to hear what my soul was whispering.
In my thirties, those whisperings turned to loud messages… “You are running out of time” would echo in my hear. I had no idea what it meant, but I was about to find out.
It was October 2014. After years of heartbreak and living outside of my truth, my health collapsed in an instant. I was at work when everything went awry and a stillness within me knew something was very, very, wrong. An ambulance was called, and from that moment on, everything stopped. I went from trying to hold it all together to being bedridden for nearly two years.
ER visits, endless doctor visits, specialists, unanswered questions. I was told I’d live with chronic illness for life - Hashimoto’s, POTS, tachycardia, endocrine dysfunction, digestive failure - one diagnosis after another.
But I refused to believe I was irreparably broken.
So I turned inward.
Through meditation, nervous system repair, deep listening, trauma-informed support, and soul-level remembering - I began to heal.
What I’ve come to know is this:
The body holds ancient wisdom.
When we stop trying to silence it, we can hear it’s message.
We are not alone. There are unseen armies of love behind us.
You do not have to wait for a crisis before knowing it’s time to change your life. As a matter a fact, I beg you to not wait until then - if you know something isn’t right, if you know it’s time to change, start reaching for support.
So often, when we’re not living in alignment with our truth - when we suppress our voice, abandon our needs, or live according to someone else’s rules - that disconnection can take root in the body. Illness becomes the signal. The body becomes the messenger.
But healing - real healing - is possible.
After my near-death experience - everything changed. My intuition lit up like wildfire. It was undeniable… and honestly, unnerving. I didn’t know how to hold it. I didn’t feel ready. I dipped a toe in - offering intuitive sessions and coaching work in small ways - but I still had deep work to do on myself before I could fully trust what I was being called to share.
That calling never left. It just waited patiently until I was ready to say yes.
In 2018 I answered the call.
This work isn’t just what I do. It’s who I am.
I am here to walk with others as they remember who they are, reconnect with their worth, and rise into the sacred, soul-rooted purpose they came here to live.