“I’ve been studying my dreams, dog. I’ve been writing them jawns down, trying to see what them jawns mean,” said Sadaat.

“I believe that our dreams are our spirit moving through time.”

⧟

This parlor is the room of my dreams. It was here, on this loveseat, where I was struck by Deja Vu, as clear as could be.

I had a book (this book) in one hand. In the other, an article on my phone. The Athletic, featuring the San Francisco 49ers on the banner, celebrating a Monday night win.

I had been here before.

I looked up from my lap to the space surrounding me. Tall bottles and glassware stood atop a bar across the room. Numerous plants lined the edges of the floor, orchids and elephant ears reaching up and out. On the walls hung art from around the world: Antoni Gaudi, Casa Mila, La Sagrada Familia. Barcelona, Cape Town; Macon, Georgia.

I had been here in a dream. Exactly when, I can’t call it. But my spirit had raced ahead.

"Where am I? This place is… perfect.”

Across from me was a single seat, with an ottoman in between. In the corner sat the Victrola, with vinyl records from artists new and old. Stevie Wonder, Chaka Khan, Stanley Clarke. D’Angelo, Kendrick Lamar, Anderson.Paak. Through the window was an idyllic autumn scene. New England fall.

This was the room of my dreams. My spirit had arrived to find quaint luxury, but in an unfamiliar place.

I was scared.

I was scared because I had never quite imagined such comfort in my grasp, designed by me and mine, for me and mine. My internal and external environments aligned. A place that vibrates at the highest frequency, and commands the same from its occupants.

A room that features the unique riches that travel endows, curated with intentionality. Artifacts whose value is measured best by stories told. Greenery, the essence of health and growth. Music, the harmonic vibration, which fills the room with joy. These are the elements that define true riches. These are the elements which govern this place.

My spirit had visited this moment, and unconscious responded with fear. Did I not deserve this? Could I not fathom that my dreams could be reality?

I sat up on the loveseat, digesting the moment with sobriety. I was here again. There was no question, only reality. The timelines had intersected.

I reached for my journal to record the moment, but I paused. I was here again, in the parlor, in living color, just as I am now.

Days later, I spoke to Sadaat.

“I’ve been studying my dreams, dog. I’ve been writing them jawns down, trying to see what them jawns mean,” said Sadaat. “I believe that our dreams our are spirit moving through time.”

Sadaat was right.

⧟

I took a break from work to join my mother for an afternoon snack. Veggie chips from Costco.

Deja Vu.

It was my spirit from the future, seeking to reclaim the tender moments of the now.

⧟

The Sands of Time

November 19, 2021

“I’ve been studying my dreams, dog. I’ve been writing them jawns down, trying to see what them jawns mean,” said Sadaat.

“I believe that our dreams are our spirit moving through time.”

⧟

This parlor is the room of my dreams. It was here, on this loveseat, where I was struck by Deja Vu, as clear as could be.

I had a book (this book) in one hand. In the other, an article on my phone. The Athletic, featuring the San Francisco 49ers on the banner, celebrating a Monday night win.

I had been here before.

I looked up from my lap to the space surrounding me. Tall bottles and glassware stood atop a bar across the room. Numerous plants lined the edges of the floor, orchids and elephant ears reaching up and out. On the walls hung art from around the world: Antoni Gaudi, Casa Mila, La Sagrada Familia. Barcelona, Cape Town; Macon, Georgia.

I had been here in a dream. Exactly when, I can’t call it. But my spirit had raced ahead.

"Where am I? This place is… perfect.”

Across from me was a single seat, with an ottoman in between. In the corner sat the Victrola, with vinyl records from artists new and old. Stevie Wonder, Chaka Khan, Stanley Clarke. D’Angelo, Kendrick Lamar, Anderson.Paak. Through the window was an idyllic autumn scene. New England fall.

This was the room of my dreams. My spirit had arrived to find quaint luxury, but in an unfamiliar place.

I was scared.

I was scared because I had never quite imagined such comfort in my grasp, designed by me and mine, for me and mine. My internal and external environments aligned. A place that vibrates at the highest frequency, and commands the same from its occupants.

A room that features the unique riches that travel endows, curated with intentionality. Artifacts whose value is measured best by stories told. Greenery, the essence of health and growth. Music, the harmonic vibration, which fills the room with joy. These are the elements that define true riches. These are the elements which govern this place.

My spirit had visited this moment, and unconscious responded with fear. Did I not deserve this? Could I not fathom that my dreams could be reality?

I sat up on the loveseat, digesting the moment with sobriety. I was here again. There was no question, only reality. The timelines had intersected.

I reached for my journal to record the moment, but I paused. I was here again, in the parlor, in living color, just as I am now.

Days later, I spoke to Sadaat.

“I’ve been studying my dreams, dog. I’ve been writing them jawns down, trying to see what them jawns mean,” said Sadaat. “I believe that our dreams our are spirit moving through time.”

Sadaat was right.

⧟

I took a break from work to join my mother for an afternoon snack. Veggie chips from Costco.

Deja Vu.

It was my spirit from the future, seeking to reclaim the tender moments of the now.

⧟

The Sands of Time

November 19, 2021