Dreams and Visions

Do you ever have intensely vivid dreams? Dreams so real that it almost hurts to leave it; to re-enter the real world seems somehow foreign and obtuse?

Recently I had been reading and old journal entry from years ago about a dream I'd had. My recollection of the experience of this dream flooded my memory like it had happened just the night before.

The dream began with a simple family outing in our minivan. "I'm going to show you where I used to live," I said as I spontaneously took a freeway exit to drive through my old neighborhood. As we slowly drove the desolate streets, I regaled them with tales of this wonderful place; the shops and businesses, the amenities and local scene. I parked the minivan and we got out to stand in front of the largest of the remaining buildings, a three-story shopping and apartment building. I began describing in detail each shop and facility, where I lived and how we all worked and lived together here happily.

Then suddenly the dream changed from a narration to a flashback: I was at once whisked away to a brighter, happier time when the place was bustling with activity and merriment. Here now people lived, worked, laughed, loved, planned, built and prospered in a close-knit community under sunny skies. And then the dream changed into a news report with a montage of  images of shops being closed and families moving out of town, while the voiceover narration described the tragedy in sequence. Soon all that was left were darkened buildings, closed doors and empty streets. 

As I came out of the flashback and my own narration trailed off, I looked up at the desolate cinderblock edifice which stood on a wild, overgrown field while the cool wind and harsh sun pressed hard on it to yield back to the soil. The kids ran through the grass oblivious to the depth of significance the memories held for me. My wife stayed at my side and held my hand, listening and smiling kindly.

When I woke, the meaning of the dream hit me immediately. 

Just a week before, our company announced major budget cuts and devastating restructuring. Our group was one of many that would be impacted, meaning we would be focusing on new projects and new methods. It would also see the exodus of a vast majority of the team I'd hired on with. The "old team" was no more, and all that remained was a crumbling ruin of what we'd had, and bittersweet memories for those of us who decided to remain.

I think the dream is a lesson. Life is a journey, an adventure down a highway. There are stops along the way, but nothing permanent. Our experiences stay with us as memories, and they can be sweet, but it's important to not dwell where life used to be.