Following a Dream

I woke slowly, embracing the feeling of warm contentment that I can only really capture on the weekends when I’m not slamming my fist down on my alarm, desperate for five more minutes of blissful sleep. Then my alarm went off. Slamming my fist down on it, I padded to the bathroom to start my day.

I had the dream again. It was the fifth night in a row. It wasn’t a bad dream. In it, I was walking along a street filled with shops, then suddenly I was talking to a person and I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but they were so happy that whatever they said lifted my spirits and I woke up smiling.

I didn’t dream very often, but there have been a few times when a dream has left me feeling as though there was something I needed to remember about that dream. When I did dream they were either exhilarating stories or fragments that I couldn’t make sense of, but this dream wasn’t like that. Each morning, I woke with a sense of happiness, but also unrest; like I had to do something, but I didn’t know what.

I couldn’t seem to get this dream out of my mind, so I grabbed my little black book, put on the kettle for tea, and sat down at my kitchen table to write about my dream again. This was starting to become routine. I had to admit that journaling every morning was a better ‘waste of time’ than my usual doom scrolling the news. Pretty quickly my alarm went off again, to signal that I had thirty minutes to shower and get to work.

My day as a receptionist for a law firm passed fairly quickly, and soon I was home again. I was saving up for law school but I was still coming up short. Maybe next year I could afford it. I made a quick microwave dinner and headed into the living room to watch TV and relax before bed. I thanked my lucky stars tomorrow was Friday and started flipping through Netflix.

Several hours later I woke up on my couch with the remote still in my hand. Bleary-eyed I glanced at the microwave without really registering the time. 2:45 am. I got a glass of water and crawled into bed.

The next morning I woke up remembering that I had had the dream twice, but this time I saw a street sign and I knew where I was. I was in the city closest to our small town. In the dream, I was standing on Smith and Maple. I kept thinking about the dream the entire day. I just couldn’t get it out of my head.

My lunch break came around and I decided to call up one of my closest friends. “Julia! I can’t get that dream out of my head. I think I know where it is. I’m going this weekend. Want to come? It will be a quick trip to the big city! Say you’ll come!”

“Sure! Sounds great! Tomorrow AM?” Julia replies.

“See you then!” I ring off. This wasn’t the first spur-of-the-moment trip we had gone on together and I didn’t think it would be the last.

The next day we climbed into my VW bug and headed out. It was a five-hour drive, but we had done it so many times since we got our licenses in high school that it was routine now.

The neighborhood was a quaint area that had been gentrified to resemble a quiet little village in the middle of the bustling city, and Julia and I walked into every shop. I was looking for the feeling of happiness that I had in my dream, but nothing special happened. We booked a reasonable hotel room and went out for a fancy dinner. The next day, we would be returning home, but I managed to convince Julia to come back to the shops with me that morning, just in case. Still nothing. Julia and I drove back to our sleepy little town. It was a fun trip, but I hadn’t received the good news I was hoping for. I had quite literally followed my dream and come up empty. I sighed as I parked my car in my driveway.

****

Monday. Oh, how I hate Mondays! I slammed my fist down onto my alarm and rolled groggily out of bed. I didn’t have the dream last night. I missed that blissful feeling, but I grabbed my journal and wrote a few lines of reflection, before heading off to work.

The week went by and on Friday night I had the dream again. This recurring pattern was getting out of hand. I couldn’t get it out of my head. Saturday, I decided to go back to the city. I didn’t feel like having company this time though, so I headed out on my own. Two trips to the city in one month were going to stretch my finances, but I couldn’t let my dream go.

I walked up and down the blocks, revisiting the beautiful shops from the previous weekend but nothing brought me the same joy that I found in my dream. Walking into a gift shop with lots of little trinkets I continued to browse, hoping that something or someone would spark the feelings of my dream.

The girl behind the counter came over to me. “Hi, are you looking for anything special?” She asked politely, but when she saw my face and recognized me she exclaimed “ Oh! You were in here last weekend with a friend. Was there a special item you had to come back for?”

I smiled. She had such an open face and there was no one else in the shop. “Yes, I was here last weekend, “ I stifled a laugh. “This is going to sound really weird, but I keep having this recurring dream that I’m in one of the shops on this street and someone gives me the good news. I came to see if I could figure out that puzzle.”

“That is hilarious. I can’t believe you came all the way out here just for a dream. God. if I followed all of my dreams I would have seen half the world by now. Too bad I don’t have that kind of money,” she smirked.

“Yeah, dreams are weird,” I replied, feeling a little foolish now that she had pointed out the absurdity of following a random dream I had.

“Oh yeah. I’ve actually had the weirdest recurring dream for the last few weeks as well. There’s a house on a really quiet street. Looks like a very small town. Very quaint. All I can see is a house number - 456 on Robin Way. Then I’m behind the house and I see a huge cherry tree with a shovel next to it. I start to dig and under the tree is a buried treasure.” She looks at me and laughs, “Can you imagine if I went to all the little towns around here looking for that address with a cherry tree in the back yard? I’d never find it, and even if I did, there is no way there would be buried treasure in someone’s backyard. Nice thought, though. Maybe one day I’ll find it.” She shrugged.

I look over at her and smile. I feel content and joyous. “You’re right. I absolutely agree. I was just being silly, but at least I got a trip or two out of it. Thanks for talking some sense to me. I guess I should be heading home though. Thanks again.” I step outside and walk straight for my bug.

Driving home feels like an eternity. I’m careful and don’t quite break the speed limit, but my foot is on the gas most of the way home.

I’m sure the shop girl thought I was nuts. She seemed very grounded. I pull into my driveway on 456 Robin way. Slamming the door to my car, I run around to my backyard. The cherry tree that has been there since way before I was born, stands tall. I run to the shed and grab the shovel to start digging. Halfway back to the cherry tree it dawns on me that it’s getting dark and there is no way I'm digging in the dark. I can wait until I’m fresh in the morning. I think as I leave the shovel by the tree and go inside to bed. I don’t dream that night, and first thing in the morning, I start to dig. It takes some time but after 5 feet of digging, I haven’t found anything yet. I decide it’s time for a break and go inside to get some water and call my parents. I knew my dad would think it silly, but my mom was much more open to dreams and their interpretation.

“Hi mom, how’s it going?” I say cheerily into the receiver.

“Hi, sweety! I’m doing alright. Your father is just outside fixing the roof now. I don’t like it, but we did have a couple of shingles blow away in last night’s wind storm, so there isn’t much choice.”

“Oh geez, mom. He is too old to be doing that sort of thing. Next time let me know and I’ll see if I can find someone here to do it.” Conversations with my mom always seem to derail whatever I had originally thought to tell her about.

“Alright, sweety. I’ll tell him. How are you doing?”

“Right! I called because I wanted to know more about the cherry tree in the backyard. Do you know how long it’s been there?”

“Oh, that tree has been there for ages. Apparently, the entire town used to be the estate of a former privateer who had eventually settled down and had a family here. After his passing his children sold the land to a rail developer and moved away. Eventually, once the railway was put in a town formed, and that’s how our sleepy little village came to be. The cherry tree is the last of a huge orchard that took up both our neighbor’s plots as well as ours. Interestingly, because of the age of the tree, town bylaws state that it can’t be cut down. Your Dad wanted to build a better shed but we couldn’t do it because of the tree. Why do you ask?”

I told my mom about the dreams and she encouraged me to keep looking. Even if I don’t find anything at least we would know. I grabbed the shovel and started to dig another hole. I had no way of knowing if I was digging in the right spot or not, and I didn’t want to dig a trench around the tree if I could avoid it.

Three days later, the ground near the tree absolutely churned and after-hours off backbreaking shoveling after work, my shovel hit something that wasn’t hard-packed earth. The hollow thunk of my shovel hitting wood had me nearly crying with excitement. I kept digging and there it was as the shop lady had said. A real buried treasure. I dragged the chest out of the ground and marveled at it. The wood was clearly rotting in some places but it wasn’t as bad as I would have expected. The metal lock holding the chest closed was still solid, but the wood around it had begun to pulverize. I tugged on the lock and it fell away in a shower of splintered, rotting wood. My hands shook as I opened the chest and saw what was still inside; a small number of gold doubloons. Pirate treasure. I looked at it stunned. Suddenly, following my dream didn’t seem like a silly idea at all.