The Lessons of Vivid Dreams

Last night I had a dream.

I remembered being on the beach.

Wind was blowing through the palm trees. I was on a villa where there someone was hosting a pool party. It felt familiar.

People were in the backyard of this beachfront property, laughing and playing pool games.

I looked out to the ocean horizon and a yatcht came into view. The yatcht from my vision board, actually. It was a beautiful moment. “Life is good,” I thought to myself.

Then, suddenly, the wind began to pick up and when I looked to my right, I see a ghetto bird (helicopter, but where I’m from it’s ghetto bird) flying towards me.

I became fearful. I thought, “It’s coming for me.” It began to get closer and closer. I thought about running but became paralyzed with fear.

The trees were swinging wildly as the helicopter approached and zoomed right over the villa. It began to shine its light upon some other place nearby.

I breathe a sigh if relief and I think to myself how thankful I was to be where I am.

Then, like a wave, history cane crashing into the scene.

I was in the same place on the same block but some years before. I was able to see a scene where a black man was killed for even daring to get to where I had the opportunity to fully experience.

There was a wire there that separated the beach/villa from the blocks before and I saw him slumped over the wire. All he wanted was the chance to experience a life better than what he knew. Nothing more.

The scene then faded and I was with my mom, walking the streets at night. Just taking a stroll. Financially poor but content.

The air was warm, like the summers in my hometown of Fresno, CA. We were headed from downtown. Not exactly to home. For some reason, I couldn’t think of where home would be. I remember that I was happy to be by my mother’s side, but at the same time, I aspired for more.

As if from shadows, my brother comes up and meets us as we’re walking. He was on the streets as well. I was happy to see him but something felt... off. He later admitted to being on drugs and he was acting funny.

My heart sank. My mom maintained her always cheery disposition but I know she felt it too.

I thought to myself, “What could I do?”

Once again, the scene faded to black and I was all alone. On the streets.

My next thought was, “How do I survive?”

I wander around for a bit until I meet a couple of women on the streets. They were a bit older than me. Maybe in their 50s. They, like me, had nowhere to go.

They planned to go to one of those fancy retail stores where women actually felt comfortable leaving their purses about...unattended.

As we pretended to browse, I notice the other women began taking little things off the shelf and stashing them away on their person.

It initially came as a shock to me (I have never resorted to stealing even when I was homeless) but I knew why we were there. I asked myself, “What would I like to steal?”

I gaze around the room laden with purses, clothes and lavish accessories. They were nice, I had to admit, but I didn’t want anything like that. I really just wanted to buy myself some food so I could eat.

My next thought was, “Money. I need money.” I set my eyes on the nearest unattended purse and I made my way towards it slowly and undetected.

I reached in and rummaged around until I could find the wallet, grabbed whatever cash I could get my hands on and briskly booked it out of the door. The two women followed shortly after.

After about... half a block, we hear voices call after us. We were found out. We began sprinting and I remember thinking as I was zigzagging through short streets and alleyways, “This is where I’ve really come to?”

The people began to gain on us and there was a huge fuss. “I cannot go to jail,” I say to myself. So I break off from the others and began running in a new direction. Thankfully, I was not followed.

When I finally felt like it was safe enough to rest, I stop running in an alleyway to find myself lost... at night... in the middle of the city.

I kept walking. I was afraid of what would catch up to me if I stopped moving. As I walked, I reflected on what had just transpired, everything with my brother and the fact that I had nowhere left to go. Lost in thought, I came to realize where I had subconsciously brought myself.

This place... it was familiar but I did not think fondly of it. It was a place of drugs, abuse, predators and prostitution.

There was a saying about this place that if you ever find yourself here, you’ve reached the bottom of the bottom.

It suddenly dawned on myself why the place was so familiar. I’ve never lingered in this place for too long but, previously, I had accidentally passed by the gate of the yard. In this moment, I was inside the gate on the side of the “house of the willingly damned.” I always made a point to not gaze upon those that would dwell there and not to be seen by them. If I did, they would pull me in and drag me down.

Once I truly processed where I was, my heart began to race. I quickly began to go back in the direction of which I came. The further I got from that place, the happier I became. My heart rate slowed.

I started to feel like me. I knew that I needed to work hard to be as far away from that place as I could. It was my right. “Just keep going,” I thought.

Before I parted from my dream, it left me with this wisdom:

“It is best to build for your future once you understand EVERYTHING from your past. In your lessons is where the key to your success lies. Face your past and don’t forget how fortunate you are.

Don’t forget how hard you’ve worked and why you deserve to go where you are about to be.”

What does that mean to you??