Last night, I had a dream and couldn't wait to blog about it. My dream represented so many things going on in my life right now. After some much needed reflection, I've decided to share my thoughts. I apologize for dropping off the face of the planet, but I’ve been working on my novel which is in the final stages of the first draft. Ahh… alas! I can breathe.
I have a dream journal which has been lacking entries since my work with children has picked up as well as my novel. Honestly, my alarm goes off at 5am so instead of running toward my journal, I’m usually forcing myself to slowly rise from my bed and make my way toward the coffee pot like a groggily zombie. Just so I have enough time to write or visit kids before the work day begins.
Back to my dream. It had to do with three of my favorite things; writing, fashion and religion. Yep, all packaged and presented to me in one big fantasy. There was me, as Carrie Bradshaw (of course), the actual “Mr. Big”, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte. I was also being recruited amongst Maggie from the Walking Dead, my ex-boyfriend from college who was posing as Glenn (yes, my ex was, too, Korean) and we were all in this big building with many stairs leading up to some higher power. The strange thing was that certain people had the capability of floating or flying up instead of using the stairs. I was one of them. Mostly everyone else, including my ex, had to use the stairs. When I was asked how I was able to fly, my reply was simple... or simple to the version of “me” in my dream. “The happier and more awakened your spirit it, the more inclined will be to fly.”
There was also a part where I (Carrie) was pissed off at Big for standing me up at an elegant ball which I was dressed impeccably for. I had a scarlet pink dress on which was blazing with fiery dowry. My long, silken and wavy hair fell down to both my neck and breast and was laced in golden and brown locks. Beauty and perfection all wrapped into one. Well, after the ball ended and I was standing there utterly alone, I decided to run through the dark, heightened cold streets of Manhattan in my Manolo BIahnik six inch heels, searching for Big. When I finally found him walking with some of his business partners, I asked, “What kind of man stands someone up at a ballroom?” His answer was simple enough; “I forgot.” Then, in true Carrie and Big fasion, he wisped me away with his handsome demeanor and infectious charm.
All of the sudden, on our walk home together, Pope Francis was walking by accompanied by his six priestly body guards. I asked Big to stop them so I could ask the Pope for his blessing. Big stood there in awe and couldn’t mustard up the courage to approach him so I did. When his gang let their guard down, he approached me and put his hand upon my head and then over my heart. He told me I was being blessed and I should keep moving forward with my journey. I was as happy as the morning sun returning from her glorious adventures while we lay lost in our dreams.
I took this as two separate entities... One; my connection to New York City was still trying to make its way back into my writing. (My second novel will be based out of Manhattan) and two; our spirit needs to be spoiled with endless inspiration and higher knowledge in order to grow closer toward the destiny of where our paths will eventually lead us. And I’m not just saying this for shits and giggles. I believe in dreams because they have the power to connect us with our psyches as well as the energy of other human beings and passed loved ones.
And what was even more astounding was that on this very day, I was supposed to have been at a Pagan shop looking for vitality to feed my soul with one of my besties. She’s been there for me through thick and thin and during my socialite climbing and crumbling years as a teenager and college attendee in New York City.
Well, we had agreed to go to this Wiccan store to look for some books, candles and anything else which would awaken the positive energy we knew needed some jerking around deep within. Can you believe this? I was so psyched to go to this store and then low and behind, the Pope who lives halfway across the planet, decides to visit me in my dream and tell me “I am blessed and my journey will find its own path.” I don’t know about you, but I read this whole experience as, “Girl, sit your Godly butt behind and mediate with your higher power if its guidance and energy you seek. But leave that Wiccan store alone.”
Not to judge or say there is anything wrong with Wiccan ways. I will probably still go someday with my friend just to check it out because I love learning about other religions and spiritual reflections. But for now, it is simply not my thing. Pope Francis flooded me with assurance as I have been tossing and turning in woe and worry; trying to swim my way through a boundless sea of “what ifs” and “where do I go from heres.”
We all have a purpose here and sadly for most, they never reach that purpose. A few weeks ago, I had been working with elementary kids at a very low-income school in one of the poorest cities in New Jersey. My aunt is a teacher there; not because she needs the job, but because she loves the children who attend this school.
From the outside, there are tall fences guarding the kids as they play on the small, worn down playground. Walking into the school, my heart sunk to my shoes as I read a huge banner which said, “Reading is Better Than Being in a Gang.” The decrepit and dilapidated walls are decorated with paintings, artwork, and stories the children have produced to hide any of the sadness and pain which resides in the city surrounding them. I have to admit; I was afraid and nervous about meeting these students. But from the moment I observed my aunt speaking with them, I felt an incredibly warm toughness collide and conquer the aching pain slowly protruding from my soul.
After one day of working with these unbelievably talented and sweet kids, I understood why she chose to work there. Whether or not she understood that this was her purpose and a place where her soul felt inclined to be… well that was up to her. But standing there, behind my aunt, as the kids rushed up with excitement and stories, I stood there as another spirit, observing the POWER of finding one’s PURPOSE.
Sadly, my aunt is very sick. She was recently diagnosed with bone cancer and has already battled breast cancer eight years ago. My aunt is a fighter which is why she is still working now with those kids who desperately need someone like her to look up to for hope, knowledge and kinship. When I saw her at the school, I saw how frail and delicate her illness had progressed to. I couldn’t even recognize her at first because she blended in with the rest of the elementary kids; like she had shrunk down to this flower which was slowing fading away amongst the others who were now growing taller than her. It broke my heart as my tears shattered against my face. She kept this hidden from me up until the day of my visit so I was able to concentrate and give good presentations. My aunt defines purpose and her legacy will be something for everyone to live up to.
When purpose meets the soul, the outcome can be contagious. I’ve seen this with my mother when she finally met death and consequently, instead of taking her life, it breathed a new one into her empty soul. She was given a purpose on her deathbed and now she is able to help others who are struggling to stay sober or waiting for liver transplants. My aunt’s purpose is to give those kids hope every single day they walk through those heavy, dismal school doors. And my purpose… well, it’s in my hands now but I think I’m heading down the right path. My soul is constantly craving its final destination but now I know, with the help and assurance of my higher power, it will find its home.
If you haven’t already done so, find a purpose. And make it so big and infectious that everyone will look up to you in respect, guidance and awe. Become someone’s hero or make another person’s day and keep paying it forward. Every time a child tells me how much they have enjoyed my stories or presence, it truly tickles my soul. And each morning when I wake up, fresh and clear minded, I know my day will have meaning. I might not always have good days, but any day is better than waking up, knowing death is not knocking on my door. I can’t imagine how my aunt must feel or how my own mother felt when she was desperately ill. But they are two of the strongest women I’ve known. And honestly, their legacy will always give my soul the drive to keep attaining its final purpose and destination.
Do you feel like you have found your purpose in life? Or have you ever gone through an experience or experiences which have helped you realize what you are truly passionate about?