Once upon a time in Halifax
To say that my childhood was unusual and traumatic is an understatement. My formative years were spent being shuffled between which ever relative (usually my grandmothers) or family friend would take care of me. This led to neglect, abuse and a fair amount of feeling of negativity, being unsafe and uncertainty within me. From very early teens, I rotated from my moms, the streets, to a group home of some sort, (with a very short stint once at my dads at 15)until after I had my son at 17. During my times on the streets, I couch surfed, hitchhiked all over the Maritimes, did a lot of drugs, met a lot of people, saw a lot of things that I couldn’t explain and other things that I really wish I hadn’t seen. In short, I saw all facets of life, things most people would never want to experience, and things people might never experience but would leave them in wonder.
The first time it happened, I didn’t know what exactly what was going on. I was about twelve and I dreamt I was in a park, I didn’t recognize it, and I there were lots of people around but a fair distance in the background. I started walking towards a pool, and then there was this guy walking towards me. He was a few years older than me, taller, he had short, light brown hair, large brown eyes, he was fairly thin, and he had a kind smile. He walked up to me and it felt like I had known him my whole life. We walked to the wading pool, went to get changed, got in and then talked about everything, what was going on in our lives, how we were doing, feeling, what events were coming up, our fears. Nothing was off limits. We talked until there was nothing left to say and once we were done our conversation, we got out, changed, then we walked to where we had met up, and went our separate ways. The next morning I woke up and remembered everything. I didn’t think much of it, just that it was a cool dream and that it had been nice to talk to someone.
It was about six or seven months later that it happened again. I dreamt again of the same park, the same people in the background, and the same guy walking towards me. We met up again and walked to the pool and talked. I had had a bad year, with some repressed memories trying to resurface, some attempted suicides, and depression. He told me about some of the problems he was facing at his home with his parents, and school. We talked again and again nothing was off limits. It was very calming and safe feeling. When we were all talked out, we got out, changed, we hugged, walked back to where we met up and went our separate ways. This time when I woke up, I knew there was something unusual about these dreams.
It was almost a year before the next time I went back to the park. I remember it so vividly. When I showed up, he was there waiting for me. He looked a little older, a little rougher. He asked where I had been, and told me that he had been waiting for me. As we walked to the pool I explained that it had been a really bad year. I had been caught shoplifting, and the friend I was with told the police about my suicide attempts. I ended up institutionalized for three months instead of arrested and did community service for restitution. I had also ended up in the hospital for asthma after almost dying, ironically. Things has also been strained between my mom and I, and I had just gotten back to my her house from being on the streets for a bit. He told me that things had not been great for him either. His home life was not the most stable, his parents were fighting quite often and they were talking of divorce. His brothers were getting into trouble. Again, nothing was off limits. When we said goodbye, I promised I wouldn’t stay away so long again. I woke up knowing that the guy I kept dreaming about was real and that he was dreaming about me too, we were sharing our dreams.
For the next two years or so, it was every six months that I dreamt of the park. I would always meet the same guy. It was always the same park. We always aged appropriately. It was always a safe and comfortable environment. I also noticed that during this time, it only happened when I was at my mothers house. I had a lot of strange experiences in that house, but those are stories for another day.
By late fifteen or so, the dreams became more frequent. At this time, I was starting to dream of the park no matter where I was. My life was in utter chaos, I had been in multiple group homes, spent quite some time on the streets, I was dating men in their early to mid-twenties. I was starting to do drugs pretty heavily. Each time I’d dream, he was there to greet me. Except now he seemed to be getting his life together. He seemed happy. One of the dreams, he showed up driving a motorcycle. We still talked, and shared everything that was going on in our lives. The only difference was that now our love lives were part of the conversations. We talked about everything. As my life was imploding, his was coming together. He was done school, he was working, he had an apartment, he was getting his shit together. I was happy for him and so glad he was my friend. I can still remember his expression as he patiently listened to me explain how my life was imploding again this time, and to all the disastrous situations I put myself in.
The last time I dreamed of the park, I was back at my mothers house and I was sixteen. I had gotten clean from coke and crack, from being on the streets and living with dealers, from selling my body for food and drugs. I was getting my life back. I walked into the park and listened to the people in the background. My friend walked up to me and hugged me. We walked to the pool and talked about everything that had happened. I told him every everything, I held nothing back. I was grateful that there was no judgement from him. He was glad that I was making a change and getting my shit together. He told me that his life was going well. He was doing really great. I was really happy for him.
I didn’t realize that that was going to be the last time I’d see him. I still miss him and the feelings of connection, safety, acceptance, and unconditional love that I felt and shared with him. As much as he gave those feelings to me, I gave them right back to him.
A couple weeks after the last dream, I met a boy. He was a year or two older than me, and he really resembled the man from my dreams. I mistakenly thought that he was for a day or two, but it became very clear to me very quickly that I was wrong.
To this day, I don’t know who the man was, but I hope he is well, and I want to thank him and give him all my love and respect. I am truly grateful for my time in the park and with him. It was a truly wonderful, magical experience and I really believe that these experiences allowed me to keep my sanity in insane times.
