"Can you fix us?"

The streets were wet from a recent downpour that had managed to at least wipe them clean from the otherwise dirty aspect that they typically have during this time of year. Somehow though, all the smells had managed to remain intact as if hovering just under my nose. An odor mix of dirt, wet animal hair, and something else remained attached to every step I took. Well, at least it's not cold, I thought to myself. It was already dark when I found myself dragging my large duffel bag on wheels, the one that I recently bought at Costco prior to my last trip to Puerto Rico, through a desolate street in search for a place to hide it so it would not be stolen. I looked at my watch and realized that I had much less time than I had originally anticipated and a bit of anxiety found its way into my otherwise apparent sense of calm. Eventually I found a hiding place, good enough that now I don't remember where I left my bag in the first place. As I walked towards the agreed rendezvous point a familiar face crossed my path, but at the moment I just could not place it. This seemed to be happening to me lately, so I just brushed it off. Minutes later I was walking down another half empty street accompanied by two old friends that I had not met in a very long time in search of a little cafe that we used to love to hang out at. When we eventually found it, from the outside it seemed so familiar, yet as we walked into the place it seemed totally foreign to me. I could not really tell what was so different from before, but maybe it was the layout, I thought. The place was called "The Cookie Basket," we walked in and stood waiting for a while for someone to come up and offer to seat us. Eventually I got tired of waiting so I walked past the reception area into the next room to find it totally empty. In fact, it was more than empty, it was what seemed to be in a state of abandonment. Even though all the tables and chairs were in their usual positions, nothing else was in sight. No plates, no silverware, no salt and pepper shakers, not a single napkin. Aha! I instantly placed the previously unrecognized face that I had encountered just a few minutes earlier, it was one of the servers that had many times in the past attended our table at The Cookie Basket! Why was the place open, but empty? I returned myself in sight of my friends still waiting in the reception area and waved them over to come and see the empty chairs and tables, then I blanked out.

When I came back to it, I was walking down a dirt road across some very nice homes in a kind of rural or country type neighborhood. It was no longer night time, instead it was a very bright and clear sunny day. Even though there were not that many trees on the opposite side of the street where no homes had yet been built, one after the other, each of the homes on my right hand side had beautifully trimmed lawns and many trees surrounding their estate. Only the last home on that road had it's garbage cans out for collection, so I kept walking towards them as the early afternoon sun managed to raise my body temperature at least several degrees above normal. Soon I was standing at the curve and gated entrance to a beautiful home that vaguely reminded me of a past that just did not want to rush itself into the forefront of my thought process. The trash containers were all empty, which explained why the rest of the homes did not have theirs out too, apparently trash collection day had already come and gone and the owners of these had neglected putting theirs back into their yard. However, sitting on the ground and just next to the curve was a pile of scattered papers that under closer inspection turned out to be pictures. I leaned over and one by one started to turn any and all of the ones that were upside down. In my mind the first thing that became apparent was that these were actually not just photographs, these were memories. Contained in the bunch were many pictures of several children and adults during various times of their lives. I could count at least four different individuals in all, and from many of the photos it was obvious that they were all related as a family. To the left, and a bit higher towards the gated curb I saw something else very unusual. There were three clay sculptures of what seemed to be heads of sharks. No larger than the size of an average dinner plate, the scary looking teeth showing fish were a bit disturbing to look at. I left them untouched and returned to the photographs on the floor. As I sat down in front of them I decided to try to put them in some kind of chronological time order, and as I did this, a little bit at a time a story started to reveal itself in my mind about this otherwise unknown family to me.

From the side in my peripheral vision I sensed motion from inside the gated grounds. In an effort to not be caught snooping through the occupant's trash, I got up on my feet and started to walk back the same path from where I had started. The movement inside the fence turned out to be a large recreational vehicle approaching the exit of the estate. As it drove past me it stopped only a few tens of feet away from my position and my heart started to beat faster not knowing if I had gotten myself into any trouble for spending time in front of their luxurious home. The door of the RV opened and a pleasantly looking middle aged lady stepped down and walked towards me. As she approached she asked, "why did you leave?" I did not answer. As she moved closer the RV door closed and the vehicle continued its drive down the unpaved road and away. From her calm tone of voice I could tell that I was not in any trouble. She reached for my hand, took it, and started to walk me back towards the curve and gated entrance to her property. "Show me and tell me what you were doing here," she said as we finally stepped in front of the now half organized pictures of what was obviously her family. Even though I wanted to, I was not even sure how to answer her question so instead I reached for the photographs and continued organizing them as I thought they should go. "Oh, so you think you can fix them, huh?" she said as she watched me continue with what I had started. "Well, if we are going to do this right, we are going to have to get out of this infernal heat first!" she said as she grabbed the remaining pictures and again my hand, and dragged me at a much faster walking pace towards the inside of her beautiful home.

Once inside I was instantly able to appreciate the magnitude of wealth of this family. The home was pristine and full of extravagant details. Light colors were the theme, and everything that was supposed to shine, shined brightly. I felt amazingly out of place with my dirty shoes, clothes, and anything else that was visible in my person, yet she managed somehow to quickly make me feel as if I belonged there too. We spread the photographs over a large glass table in what seemed to be some sort of reception or family room area. As I quietly continued to sort the graphic representation of their lives, I heard as the RV parked in front of the house and the rest of the family walked into the home one by one. A teenage boy and a younger girl entered first, then finally the engraved and stain glassed double door closed behind an older male which I took to be the father of the kids and probably husband of the kind voiced lady. The kids rushed by without even looking towards me, almost as if I was not actually there in real life. The husband, on the other hand, glanced my way as he peeked over his bi-focals while checking a handful of mail that he was carrying in his hands. He then quickly spoke to his wife and asked, "Are you sure you know what your doing?" To which she replied, "Yes, leave me alone." As she sat down next to me she curiously watched me continue what I had started and asked me, "Do you think you can help? Can you fix us?" To which I simply answered, "Yes," and then I woke up.

It was close to 4:00 a.m. this morning when I woke up from this elaborate and detailed dream. It all seemed a bit surreal because of the overall lack of preoccupation from my part, otherwise the level of detail was uncomfortably real. From everything that I can remember, I summarize that I was homeless. What I was feeling in the first part of the dream mixed with the preoccupation of hiding my luggage was a sense of worry about not letting anyone of my friends know that I was living without a home. None of the people in the dream, not even my friends, are anyone that I can recognize in real life, yet during the dream they all felt totally familiar, including the server from The Cookie Basket. In the second part of the dream I could feel an incredible sense of peace within me, and a total understanding of the relationship between the various characters in the photographs, yet again, they were all fictional to my real life. As I sat at their table I saw myself handling the photographs and at the same time I can vaguely remember my thoughts in which I understood how their family needed help. In my thoughts I knew I could digitally alter the images, clean them, restore them, and finally place them into beautifully looking frames, and then somehow these changes also actually took place in their lives. It was all as if what I did to the pictures could slowly alter their past, present, and future lives too.

I wanted to share this dream with all of you because in a strange way I feel as if it has true meaning to the relationship we have developed while writing this blog. A few posts ago I talked about dreams, and how I believe that they somehow typically add up to be a continuation of our lives. Not necessarily one at at time, but the overall sum of them tend to reveal so much of ourselves. This forum and method of communication has the power to help others even when we are not even aware that we are doing so. I for one do not feel the same desperation I felt inside me during my original posts, when it all seemed so hard to explain and put in writing. At a minimum I have freed myself from many of the demons that ruled my mind with questions, doubts, and a lot of hurt. The simple act of forcing myself to understand my situation, to see it with fresh eyes, to find the correct words to share my life experiences with all of you has given me much of the answers that I was looking for in the first place. In essence, my life is pretty much the same, yet I feel as if I have made so much progress from within that I am much better equipped to go one living it. Strangely enough though, I do not feel able or capable of fixing any of the things that are so difficult for me to deal with within my life, but understanding them has made it a lot easier to bear.

Dad