Somewhere in the last several years, summer stopped being just a season and became something to brace for. It looks different depending on where you live, but the feeling is increasingly familiar. Wildfire season in the Mountain West used to be something you heard about; now it's something you plan around. Gulf Coast hurricanes have started stacking up back-to-back instead of arriving a storm or two a year. And in the Northeast, summer used to mean sweating through July without air conditioning

In therapy, dreams are one of the most useful things we have. Not because there is a master decoder ring that translates symbols into fixed meanings, and not because the therapist can tell a client what their dream is and what they should do with it. Dreams matter because they offer a launching pad, an entry point into something that is already moving underneath the surface of a person's life, often before it can be put into words.

A common concern about telehealth therapy is whether the work can go as deep on a screen, or over a phone, as it would in a room. It's a fair question. Most of us carry an image of therapy as two people in a quiet office, with the sense of having entered a particular kind of space set apart from the rest of life. Telehealth seems, at first, to remove all of that. What I've found is that less is removed than people expect. Some things are, though, and both pieces are worth acknowledging.