In a dream, I’m walking through a beautiful space with tall windows from floor to ceiling. There are no square corners anywhere, and every room flows gracefully into the next. A metal spiral staircase leads to a bedroom with a stunning mountain view. A young boy is at my side walking through the apartment with me. I tell him that I love the openness and want to live there. I wake up from the dream still feeling the happiness of being in that space. My logic mind tells me that I had the dream because today I have to find a new apartment.
It’s 1980, and my husband has just died. I’ve moved out of our home and am staying with friends while I look for a new place to live. I’m exhausted and overwhelmed going through newspaper ads trying to find something I can afford that won’t be too small or depressing. I call and make appointments to visit five apartments that day.
As I drive towards my first appointment, I see a rental sign in the driveway of an unusual looking complex. A voice inside of me says, “Pull in there now.” It’s not logical, and I have other appointments that I’m already late for. Yet I pull into the driveway.
A sign leads me to the manager’s apartment. A boy around twelve years old tells me through the door that his mother won’t be home from work until five, and that she handles the rentals. I tell him that I just want to look at it and could he give me the key if I give him my driver’s license as a deposit for the key.
He opens the door and says he’ll show me the place. He’s the boy in my dream. I’m getting goose bumps and my heart rate is accelerating as he opens the door to the apartment. I follow him in and see the exact space I just dreamed about–down to the unusual angles, tall windows, spiral staircase, upstairs bedroom with the view. I start laughing and telling him, “This is my home. I dreamed about this place. This is where I’m supposed to live…”
After he shows me the apartment, he tells me that I still have to wait until his mom gets home at five, and that she’s got other people with appointments to see it. I tell him that I can give him a check for the deposit and the first month’s rent and maybe he could call his mom and tell her I want it.
He’s pretty savvy and tells me I have to wait.
I spend the entire day waiting outside his front door (poor kid). I realize that I’ve blown off all the other appointments I had, and that if this one doesn’t work out, I won’t have a place to live.
But my gut is saying that this is my home and that I dreamt of it exactly as it is, and so it’s meant to be. During the day, several others show up wanting to see the space. But I tell everyone that I’m going to take the apartment and am waiting with the check for mom to come home. I don’t budge. At one point, five of us stand outside the boy’s door negotiating.
When mom finally comes home, against all the odds she says “yes” to me and takes my check. It’s been a day of trusting my dream, trusting my gut, and finding the home that I would live in for many years to come. It was a sacred healing space for me, and I know that Paul found it for me, revealed it to me in a dream, and drove my car into the driveway to see it. I’m forever grateful.