text: The dream begins as it always does. I stand in a small room with 3 blank, white walls. On the fourth wall, directly in front of me, are two doors. The doors themselves are unremarkable. Simple, solid, wooden doors, white to match the walls, each fitted with a single knob. The knobs are not fancy, nor are they old and rusty. Just knobs. On just doors. In just a room. I’ve had this dream frequently, for over a year. And every time I do, I choose the door on the left. I don’t know why, but I always do. And every time, it leads me to my own home. I enter, wearing ripped, old jeans and a faded sweatshirt. My hair is swept up in a ponytail, but it’s a mess, as if I’ve been out in the wind, sweaty tendrils falling in my eyes and on my neck. At the kitchen table, there is a blue notebook and a pencil. I sit down and rip open the seal on the book to reveal an exam marked “FINAL.” I never know what the exam is for. The questions aren’t relevant. But the feelings of panic are. I don’t know the answers. I pick up the pencil just as a voice intones, “Five minutes left.” Five minutes! I scramble to write anything I can on the pages but my pencil breaks. The jagged wood pierces my skin, drawing blood. A faceless man sweeps past and collects my exam as he goes. “Disappointing,” he says. “But it’s not fair!” I protest, “I didn’t know there would be a test!” My pleas are ignored. The floor opens up and I fall, endlessly, engulfed in the smell of dying flowers and defeat, until I wake up in a cold sweat. The dream is the same every time. Every time, that is, until now. In the all white room, I reach for the door on the left and pause. I see a dandelion on the floor. It wasn’t there a moment ago. Yet, it is familiar. “Yes,” I whisper, “I see it now.” I can remember many meditation sessions during which I tried to memorize every aspect of this dandelion. The bright yellow, the pointy leaves. It is my symbol. My talisman, if you will. Something to call to my attention that I am dreaming and allow me to take control. I bend to pick the dandelion from where it is illogically growing right out of the white linoleum floor. I take it with me and cautiously open the door on the right. Instantly, I am swept up in a flurry of activity. Rabbits fret about taking my measurements. I look down and I am naked, though somehow, I am not bothered by it. “Come, come,” says a small baby, who really shouldn’t be able to talk yet. She is also naked as she takes my hand and leads me forward. That is when I notice I am outside. Lush green fields stretch for miles in every direction. The smell of grass and wildflowers fills my nostrils. My entourage of rabbits have stopped measuring and the birds are now playing with my hair. It smells freshly washed - such a wonderful smell. As the baby and I walk across the fields, the birds follow, braiding my hair into intricate designs. “We’ve been waiting EVER so long,” the baby says, smiling with such joy I almost forget that I am dreaming. I want to hold this baby and care for her and make sure she never has reason to stop smiling like that. I see the dandelion in my hand. “Where am I?” I ask. “Don’t you know?” The birds twitter with amusement. “You are here. But you need to go there,” says the baby girl. She is not pointing in any direction. “Where?” I ask. “You’ll know when you get there,” she says with a laugh. The rabbits return with robes made of the softest material I have ever felt. They drape them over my head and let them fall; they fit perfectly, just brushing the grass as I spin around. The birds hold up mirrors all around me, letting me see the robes in all their glory. They are a pale pink but all throughout, gold threads shimmer in the sunlight. Behind me, a loud bang startles us all. I turn and see black smoke billowing from where we came. “Well that’s that,” says the baby girl. Confused, I try to see what caused the explosion, but the baby pulls me forward by the hand again. “Not back,” she says, “only forward. Never back.” I follow her over the next hill, clutching my dandelion all the while. We come upon an old style river boat and a sleek black stallion, standing on 2 legs, beckons me forward. “Will you leave it behind?” he asks. “I don’t understand,” I say. “Leave what behind?” I turn to the baby, hoping for an explanation, but she is no longer a baby. The girl has grown and she is me. “You can’t move forward if you don’t leave it behind,” she says sadly. The stallion reaches for my hand. Suddenly he has hands, strong and warm, instead of hooves. As I look questioningly into his eyes, he transforms into the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. His black hair and black eyes gleam brilliantly in the sunlight. He takes the dandelion from my hand and says, “You won’t need this again. The other door is gone. But to get where you need to be, you have to stop trying to stay where you were.” I take his hand and step onto the boat. We begin to move on the water. I watch the dandelion float downstream. I am still in control, I think. I watch myself standing on the shore behind us as the stallion and I drift along the river, on and on until I lose sight of myself. The stallion says to me, “Where does the wind go? When it fails to knock you off your feet, where does it go?” I look into the distance in the direction the wind is blowing. The stallion man dissolves into a mist and as it swirls around me, I slowly wake. The sun is just rising now, and a fresh breeze blows through my window. I shower and pick some comfortable clothes for travelling. I pack my bag - not too much, just what I absolutely need. I pick up my phone, think better of it and place it back on the kitchen table. I take my car keys, and head off into the world. I won’t be coming back here again.