What happens when the vision imagines you?
In early 2010, an image began popping into my mind. It was a house on a beach. I didn’t recognize the beach or the house but I knew it was in Maine. I’d never been to Maine and couldn’t explain how I knew, I just did.
This vision began appearing daily. I read articles, did research, and tried to understand why this house was appearing. Literally and metaphorically, I tried to understand what it was saying to me.
A couple of months later another vision appeared, a lighthouse. This lighthouse was at the end of a thin slice of land that jutted out like a finger sticking out from a hand. I didn’t recognize the lighthouse, but like the beach house, it began appearing daily. I still had no idea what it meant and tucked it away.
Not long afterward, I had a dream that I was walking along a path near a lake. There was a beautiful old church nearby. I woke up and did some quick research. The dream location was definitely New England.
About a year later, we took a trip to North Carolina and hit the beach. I half expected to find the places from my visions, but didn’t. Several months went by, another move, and I forgot about the visions. But they didn’t forget about me. Recently, the house began appearing in my mind’s eye, daily. I remembered the lighthouse but it was only the house on the beach that incessantly filled my thoughts. It got to the point where this started the moment I woke up in the morning and kept up daily.
Deciding to follow the lead, we headed out to the Northeast for a vacation. On our first day in Maine, we drove up the coast. As many know or have heard, New England in the fall is incredibly beautiful. However, that wasn’t the view that had me exclaiming. “That’s from that dream I had.”
We pulled off the freeway, drove by the area (it was exactly as it had appeared in my dream) and then continued on. I wanted to see the ocean. About twenty minutes later, I was standing on a small beach staring at the house from my vision. I was stunned, but not at having found the house from my vision. The beach stunk to high heaven! It was awful! I could barely breathe! I couldn’t believe there were people (though not many) actually sitting there. How could they stand it?
I don’t know what had happened but instead of the smell of fresh ocean air, I was faced with an odor that wasn’t different from the porta-john at the entrance to the park. It was rank. It was so bad I was nauseated for the rest of the day and into the night.
On the morning we were leaving, we stopped by another beach, further south. I stood in the water, letting the waves wash seaweed over my toes, breathing in the fresh sea air. Looking off to the right, I was only mildly surprised to see the lighthouse on a stretch of land jutting out from mainland Maine.
For a long time I considered the lighthouse and considered the house on the beach. I thought about the beach and how awful it smelled. I had joked it was time to find a new vision. Perhaps the experience was a metaphor reminding me that at times that’s exactly what we have to do. We have to realize when a path we’ve started down is no longer in our best interests. Or perhaps we need to modify our goals, upgrade our visions, realize we are aiming too low.
One thing we can count on is change. How often do we apply that to ourselves? Judging by the headlines, people want all the reward and none of the downside inherent in taking risks. They are happy enough when things are good but during downturns they howl and rage like it’s personal. That makes as much sense as being angry the sun sets instead of being in the sky 24/7.
I’m not sure what it all means yet but I’m willing to consider the places in my own life where my goals need to be tweaked. It certainly makes a great deal of sense in a world that changes at the speed of light.