I had a dream recently that still lingers in my mind.
In my dream, I was on vacation with my family by a lakeside.
We had been given a beautiful table by the water for dinner, and the sun was beginning
to set that golden hour where everything feels calm and full of promise. I was
in my bathing suit, ready to take a swim, because the place had both a beach
and a pool.
The view was breathtaking, and I remember thinking I just had
to capture it. So, I told everyone I’d be back; I was going to the hotel room
to grab my phone. I thought it was just around the corner.
But as I started walking back, the paths began to look
unfamiliar. I couldn’t remember the way. I turned around to retrace my steps,
but nothing looked the same anymore. Confused, I climbed up a pathway I thought
led back, only to find myself in a completely different place. I was at a
school, full of children in uniform.
Panic began to rise in me. I didn’t understand how I got
there. I knelt down beside a little girl, about six or seven, and asked if she
knew the way back to the beach near the hotel. She nodded confidently and said
she could take me there.
As we started walking, I noticed something remarkable: she
was blind. Yet she walked with such assurance, moving as if every turn and step
was already mapped out in her mind. She didn’t need any guidance. She knew
where she was going.
Something in me softened. I knelt again and told her she was
amazing, that she was beautiful, capable, and that she should never let anyone
make her feel otherwise and that disability is not inability. A single tear
rolled down her cheek. I took her hand and we continued walking.
Soon she said, “We’re here.” I looked around and realized we
were at the port, not the beach. Then it struck me, I had seen her before when
we arrived at the port earlier in the day. Back then, she had a white cane. She
suddenly pulled it out again, as if realizing we were now in new territory. It
slipped and fell through a small gap into the lower deck of a ship.
I didn’t think twice, I jumped down with her to get it. I
stretched and reached until I found it, which took a while, but when I looked
up again, the ship had started moving. Panic set in. I had no phone, no money,
no way to reach anyone. I could see the shore growing smaller as I shouted to
someone in the distance that I somewhat recognized, “Tell my parents I’m on a
ship and I’ll find a way back!”
All I could think about was the little girl, how to protect
her, how to make sure she was safe. And right before I turned toward the inside
of the ship to see what awaited us ahead, I woke up.
Oh, what a relief.
But even awake, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Did I
ruin her life by taking her with me? Why did she trust me, and why did I feel
so responsible for her? Sometimes I wonder if that’s why I don’t have children,
if deep down I question my ability to guide another life.
Still, the dream felt like a message. Maybe it wasn’t about
parenting at all, maybe it was about faith, trust, and how often we
underestimate our own abilities. That little blind girl, who couldn’t see yet
knew her way, represented strength and courage I often overlook in myself to move
forward.
It made me realize how often we feel trapped, like
we’re in a cage when, in truth, the door is wide open.
We live surrounded by opportunity: our phones, our internet
connection, our hands, our skills. We have tools, limbs, and minds capable of
creating, learning, and connecting to earn a living. And yet we convince
ourselves we’re stuck.
It’s crazy how human beings have been placed in this vast,
beautiful world, with skies, oceans, forests, and mountains, yet we lock
ourselves inside boxes called rooms. We label ourselves introverts
or hide behind depression, and before we know it, we’ve built cages in
our minds. No wonder they say it’s mental.
That dream taught me something powerful: even when I feel
lost, I am still equipped. I still have something to give because it became
clear to me that I have so much more around me.
And it reminded me of a saying that now feels truer than
ever:
“The direction of your life shifts the moment you change
your daily rhythm because every small step shapes the journey ahead.”
I now realize, maybe the ship wasn’t taking me away, maybe
it was taking me forward.
No comments:
Post a Comment