Who is Khream?

Within The Circus of Life, KHREAM speaks as both narrator and miracle-bearer. She openly names herself as a receiver of miracles—moments of inexplicable grace, protection, and survival that altered the course of her life. Central to this narrative is her childhood experience of severe dyslexia, and heart wrenching domestic violence.  Both of these circumstances accompanied  Khream for decades of her life. It is these decades that shaped how she perceived the world from her earliest years. As a little girl, letters moved across the page, numbers reversed themselves, and language appeared to dance beyond her control. She saw and experienced the world backwards, inside out, and sideways—all while surviving violence and abuse  an existence that was confusing, isolating, and often frightening. Khream often felt as though she did not belong. 

These challenges manifested most vividly during her years at St. Joseph Catholic School in La Porte, Indiana, where she served as the school milkmaid. Each day, she was responsible for collecting money from her classmates and counting change backwards for the price of a small pint of milk. Unable to reliably count or process numbers, looking at the bruises on her legs and arms, she found herself overwhelmed as children lined up, watching and waiting. In moments of panic and shame, she would abandon the milk line altogether and run from the cafeteria into the church.

There, before the statue of the Virgin Mary, KHREAM would pray, speak, and plead for help. The church became a sanctuary. In those quiet moments, she experienced a profound sense of safety, guidance, and unseen companionship—encounters she later came to understand as miracles and angelic presence. These early conversations with angels and with the Virgin Mary became lifelines, shaping her belief in divine intervention and survival through grace rather than logic.

It is from these lived experiences that she later renamed herself KHREAM—spelled K-H-R-E-A-M. The name resists conventional spelling, logic, and dictionary rules, much like her early relationship with language and numbers. To her, KHREAM is a miracle word: a tribute to the tiny milkmaid, to her dyslexic perception,  to her surviving the hands that hurt her and to surviving a childhood that transformed confusion into creativity. What appears “misspelled” to the world is, to her, a sacred truth.

Each sculpture and painting within The Circus of Life / Il Circo della Vita carries the residue of these early miracles—moments when survival depended not on order or correctness, but on faith, imagination, and the belief that something unseen was protecting her.  Khream is also a survivor of  hurtful domestic violence  as a child, and through out her young adult life.   Khream has survived brutality by the hands of others that made her feel unworthy and unloved.  Khream escaped the hands of death, more than once in her lifetime , and she lives to tell of her Miracle. Khream is here to share her survival stories and help others to heal and rise above their limitations, hurts and pain.

  Through art, performance, and voice, KHREAM transforms survival into beauty and miracle into form, offering her story as a source of healing, recognition, and strength for others—especially women who have survived, endured, and risen. 

Khream is an international Italian-American of Calabrese and Venetian roots. A multidisciplinary artist whose work bridges continents, cultures, and art forms.  A jazz and opera vocalist, composer, sculptor, painter, muralist, filmmaker, poet , dancer, choreographer, model and stage performer. She is one of the rare modern creators who lives inside every medium of expression

 As a lifelong domestic violence survivor with a near death experience and a miracle story, Khream has much to share. 

Khream's life experiences are moving and inspire others to heal and return to self.  Heal the One. Heal the Few. Heal the Many. 

She is Real. She doesn’t wrap hard truths in soft language. She tells it straight, but from love.
She is kind. She never humiliates, even when she’s angry. Her rage has integrity.
She  is authentic. Admits the mess, the shadow, the contradiction — “I’m both holy and hungry.”