DREAM MESSAGES
I’ve always had vivid dreams. I come from a long line of dreamers and empaths. Some of my dreams have been prophetic and some have been messages from loved ones who have passed on. I have gone through periods of time where I’ve blocked this part of me, either thinking it would make me fit in better and be more normal, but the truth is I’ve always been kind of weird. It’s just who I am and finally I feel at peace with it because after all, it’s what allows me to be creative in my work.
Last night, I had a special dream about coming home to myself and I felt compelled to share it.
How the dream began…
I was on the back of a boat traveling down a water canal. Watching other boaters pass us by, everyone laughing, singing and dancing. It was a bright, beautiful day. There was even a man swimming with a pod of dolphins. I felt happy and light. There was someone driving the boat and some other people riding with us — I did not know them, but I could sense they were friends. My mom was also traveling with me on the boat. She was happy and occasionally sang to the music from the passing boaters. We continued down the waterway until it ended at a city road and we came to a stop.
The road before us was busy and somewhat narrow, like a street in New York. The road was lined with old Victorian mansions and there were many cars — parked and driving, but they were all the same. They were all white Teslas with dark tinted windows, so you could not see the drivers. I looked beyond the sea of cars and saw a white house across the street from me. I could not take my eyes off of this house. There was something about it that captivated me. I needed to know who lived there. It was a desperate and urgent feeling. So I got out of the boat and started deliberately walking towards the house without waiting a moment more. I heard my mom shouting at me to stay in the boat, I ignored her. I just needed to cross the street and I would be there, but the cars seemed to sense my desire and started blocking me. I started dodging the oncoming Teslas. Then I realized all of the people on the boat including my mother were coming to get me, so I moved quicker and started running. I needed to know who lived in this house. Who were they? I wanted nothing to stop me from finding out.
When I got to the entrance of the house, everyone chasing me suddenly vanished. There was a walkway that led to the front door. It was an enclosed trellis, every inch covered in blooming white roses. Wall to wall, ceiling to ceiling. White rose petals sprinkled the walkway, the sunlight peeking through — it was absolutely lovely.
As I continued through the entrance, I saw some windy stairs leading up to the front doors. They were dark and ominous. I hesitated and second guessed myself for coming. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, three children ran past me giggling and laughing up the stairs. Bright sunshine followed them as they made their way up the stairway and little crystals along each stair were illuminated making rainbows and bright bursts of light come to life. Penelope, my daughter, was one of the children leading the two others, a boy and a little girl. My children. They were all my children, even the ones I lost. They were happy and healthy as they played. They ran beyond my view point and into the house. I followed them and continued through the front doors.
Once I was in the entrance hall, I realized I still needed to know who lived here. But where were they? The house was huge and there were many rooms, levels and hallways. Before setting off into a direction, my mom caught up with me. She said “You don’t understand, sweetie.” But I ignored her and started off towards the second floor in search of the person who lived here. I had a feeling of urgency and a desire to find this person as soon as possible. I started running through the hallways, passing rooms. Some with people in them and some empty. Until I reached the master bedroom. It was a grand entrance and I knew this was it. I would meet the person who lived here once I opened the doors. But again, my mom caught up to me and said “It’s not what you think.”
As I passed through the doors, a beautiful expansive room opened up to me. But instead of furniture, it was covered from floor to ceiling with photographs. Thousands of photographs. Photographs of me. Me as a baby, me as a little girl — my entire life captured and stored in this room. And I suddenly understood and looked back at my mom, who had tears running down her face.
The person who lives here is me.
