The Dream

Hi Joe,

I had this dream last night that I want to remember, so I thought the best way to do it was in a letter to you.

As context for the future, I’m six and a half months into unemployment. We’re doing ok in terms of money, mostly through mom’s job, unemployment insurance, and a little freelance that’s coming through. My biggest trial right now is trying to understand my own place in this life. Do I have any professional value left? Do my skills and experiences matter? Am I destined to live off of your mother while I sit in my office and watch TV all day? I’m not ready for any of that to define who I am or where I want to be in life.

One thing that’s different with this unemployment challenge is that I’m sleeping a lot better and my anxiety is much more managed. I seemed to have settled into a nightly, old man schedule. Go to bed around 10, read until I can’t keep my eyes open any more (usually between 10-40 minutes), get up for my first wee exactly one hour after I go to sleep, get up again to wee about one hour before its time to get up, then get up between 6:30 and 7. Most of my dreaming happens in that last hour, at least the dreams I remember.

Often in my dreams, I’m in a different, but familiar place. It’s a city or country I’ve been to often, but it’s not here. This time we were in a modern, bright, busy city with elevated trains, sky scrapers, and a ton of people. We were together, and I think my dad and brother were with us too. In this dream, like in real travel, I end up several paces behind everyone because I stop to look at stuff or take pictures. 

So then I’m alone, exploring the elevated places of the city. Before long, I’m inside this building going up long flights of stairs. As I climb, the walls seem to narrow above me, like on the inside of an extended, steep pyramid. There’s something really familiar about it, but not from my memory. It’s things like the carpet, the walls, and the furniture. I notice manuals and scriptures on tables here and there, so it must be a church building? I also wonder if the receding walls are the inside of the spires of the Salt lake Temple. 

As I climb the steps, I notice that there are chairs packed on every flat landing or platform—as if they are expecting a lot of people. I keep climbing and the walls keep narrowing until I get to the final platform. In addition to the chairs there's a sort of control table with monitors and AV mixing gear, and big TV cameras—nobody is there, but it is obviously all set up ready for something big.

I climb up to that platform and I see that it’s overlooking a busy, cluttered construction site. It’s not huge but it’s obviously outside of the confines of the narrowing walls of the stairway. There is rubble and ladders and scaffolds and equipment and materials all over like in any other construction site. Then I notice there are other rooms and even tunnels leading out from this area. But I don’t see any workers.

I step down to look at one of the tunnels and I notice that it is full of a row of cots with construction workers sleeping on them. As I realize they are resting I apologize and move away. I noticed the men get up and come out, not that I bothered them but just like it was time to get up. They were all in their construction gear including the yellow vests, work boots, gloves, and dirty pants. 

They start to mill around and I notice one of them is looking at me. He’s a little taller than me with bushy, light brown hair. Looks like he’s been working outside as his hair is dusty and has some highlights. He’s not filthy, but you can tell he’s been working hard. His face is tanned and even red from the son. He has a bigger nose and dark eyes, and he’s looking at me like he knows me, but he doesn’t say anything.

That’s when I realized who he was, it was the Savior, he was looking at me and knew that I knew who he was. As normal, I didn’t know what to do or say. I just knew how deeply happy I was to see him. Before I could get my thoughts together, he reached out and grasped my forearm. He did that in a kind, or brotherly way. As I felt his hand on my arm I also felt a change in my body, it was like a clean, fresh feeling going around my skin in a really positive way.

That’s the point where I woke up, hoping it was real. This dream obviously made an impression on me (thus, the letter). I don’t recall ever dreaming of the Savior before. I’ve often worried that I wouldn’t recognize him, so I received profound comfort from this dream.

Anyway kid, I hope this wasn’t awkward, I sure love you and pray for you always,

Dad