The Dreamweaver

The sound of the purple, yellow, and green flag perched on the balcony awning outside was flapping in the early morning breeze. It wasn’t overbearing, but it was enough to stir Dre awake from her sleep and the dream that she was having. It had been this way for the last few months ever since she found herself sleeping on the sofa in her best friend’s tiny, one bedroom apartment. Dre looked around in the dim light and spotted her journal on the tattered coffee table. She forced herself to get up, grabbed the notebook and a pen, opened the balcony door, and stepped outside. Settling into the wicker futon, Dre found the next blank page and began to journal her latest dream.

Life had changed drastically for Dre Jenkins. It seemed like only yesterday that she was head over heels in love and waking up next to the man that she thought was her soul mate. He was her everything. They worked together, played together, and were attached at the hip for three years. She was blinded by love and had foolishly given up everything to be with him. Looking back, she knew that the red flags were always there. She had simply fooled herself into ignoring her intuition, but that was nothing new. It was a habit in her relationships. It took her most recent heartbreak with a master manipulator and con artist to begin to realize that her patterns had stemmed back to childhood. And while she didn’t want to admit that an absent father had led to some horrible decisions and lack of trust and confidence in herself, some things could no longer be ignored at 37 years old.

Dre wanted to forgive, but she wasn’t ready. She was homeless, jobless, and at a crossroads that she never expected to be at. She hated him for who he had turned out to be, hated him for what he had done to their life. But most of all, she was angry with herself for repeating the same mistakes and wanted nothing more than to understand and heal. There were many nights that her vivid, reoccurring dreams subconsciously reflected all that was going on in her life. Convinced that those dreams held clues that would lead to answers, she had adopted that little black notebook as her most trusted confidant.

After reflecting, she found herself gazing out over the balcony that overlooked Bourbon Street. Moving there was a big change from her Uptown condo, but it was interesting to say the least. She was not sure what time it was, but it couldn’t have been any later than 7 a.m., given that the humidity hadn’t set in yet. It was the time of morning where one couldn’t be certain if the cluster of people in the streets were awake early, or if they hadn’t called it a night yet. That was just the way that New Orleans was. It had a feel that nowhere else in the world had. She loved it so much that she chose to stay instead of returning home to the small town she was raised in, even though it was only 30 minutes away. New Orleans was her dream city, and she wasn’t ready to leave. Dre had a feeling that there was something life changing just around the corner. What that was remained to be seen.

“Hey, early bird!”

Dre snapped out of her thoughts and turned to Angie, who was standing in the doorway. “Hey Ang, I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d people watch and take in the smells of Bourbon,” Dre said with a forced laugh, trying to make light of the dark thoughts that she was in.

Angie Gambino had been Dre’s best friend ever since she moved to New Orleans. After the nasty breakup, Angie didn’t hesitate to offer Dre a place to stay. Even though her one bedroom apartment was a mere 500 square feet, she insisted that Dre camp out on her sofa until she figured out where life was taking her.

“Well, snap out of that daydream you are in and get dressed. I’m smelling coffee and beignets from a mile away,” Angie ordered.

Dre’s eyes lit up as her stomach let out an incredible growl. “Now THAT sounds amazing!”

The two took off on the short walk to Café DuMonde in the French Quarter. The iconic restaurant was a treat for tourists and a hot spot for locals. The famous fried doughnuts encrusted in sugar were as much of a stable in the city as the gumbo and seafood that it was known for. As Angie stopped to chat with a group of friends that Dre didn’t know, Dre tapped her on the arm.

“Hey, I’m heading down to the river.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you down there in a little while,” Angie said with a scowl making its way across her brow. Dre had become so quiet and withdrawn, even more than usual. Angie knew that she was moving through some things, but she wished that her friend could snap out of it faster than she was. Dre was so deep in her thoughts while watching the paddleboats sail by along the murky Mississippi River and trying to connect the dots that she didn’t realize that Angie had joined her.

“I’m really envious of you Ang. You’re a survivor. You’re so strong. How do you do it?”

The two friends couldn’t have been more different. Even beyond the physical - Dre with her blonde hair, crystal eyes, and petite stature, and Angie with her onyx hair, dark, soulful eyes, and sometimes intimidating presence - they were worlds apart. Angie was born and raised in the city and was a streetwise, tell it like it is type of woman. She was the quintessential extrovert and could maneuver her way through any crowd with ease and confidence. Dre was quiet, reserved, and some might say timid. She had always been a free spirit and followed her passions both in love and life but had really begun to feel like those passions had gotten her nowhere. She had nothing and wasn’t sure what her next steps would be. She did know that it would be so much easier if she wasn’t a few weeks away from being completely broke.

”I’m not doing anything out of the ordinary, Dre. I’m just living life as it comes. You know that I learned long ago to be independent and rely on myself above anything else. You just haven’t had to face that head on until now. And…uhm…I might make better decisions than you,” Angie added with a smirk on her face.

Dre’s eyes narrowed into a slit and she wanted to get defensive, but she knew her friend was right.

Angie jumped up and grabbed Dre’s arm. “Come on, you’re coming with me to work and I’m feeding you copious amounts of wine. My treat. And YOU are letting your hair down for once. You deserve it.”

“But I’m not even finished eating breakfast and I really want to check out a few art galleries and bookstores today,” Dre protested.

“Eat it on the way. Screw the galleries! Let’s go!”

Dre reluctantly followed Angie’s command as the two made their way to the Cat’s Meow on Bourbon Street, a mere block away from Angie’s apartment. Another famous establishment in the old city, the colorful karaoke bar where Angie was a well-known bartender was alive with action even though it was only noon and a weekday. Dre sat at the bar and slurped down her first drink. Her eyes were glued to the writings in her journal, still trying to figure out what it all meant.

“Here, drink another,” Angie ordered. “And when are you going to tell me exactly what is going on with you and that notebook? You have been obsessed with it for months. The mystery killing me! Fess up!”

“It’s nothing. Just a dream journal. I’ve been having these dreams for a few months now. Dreams of my father where I am walking along different paths. He appears, and then he disappears. And sometimes, he has the face of one of the epic failures that were my relationships. Sometimes I’m on a bridge. Sometimes I’m on a cobblestone road. Sometimes I’m walking along a ledge. Oddly enough, there is a woman who keeps appearing in them. I have never seen her before, but she keeps giving me the same message. She continues to tell me to watch out for the signs that are right around the corner.”

“Well, I’m glad you finally told me. Doesn’t seem like nothing. But what do you think it means?” Angie asked.

“I have no idea,” Dre replied as the tears began to fill her tired eyes.

That was the last thing that Dre remembered from that day. She woke up the next morning with a crushing headache. Over coffee and eggs on the balcony, Angie recounted Dre’s antics the day before, all the way down to her performance of “I Will Survive” on the karaoke stage. Dre was mortified, despite Angie thinking that it was hysterical. Dre needed a long walk and some soul searching. She threw on her oldest, most comfortable sweatpants, tennis shoes, and tank top and made her way out of the apartment. Except on that day, her route was different. She had a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach and couldn’t determine whether it was her hangover, or something more profound.

As she walked along, Dre came to a complete stop when her eyes became fixated on a bright green sign hanging over a small, secluded alleyway. A sign that she had never seen before. Her eyes were wide open as she read it over and over again.

“The Dreamweaver – Psychic Medium & Transcendental Meditation”

She peered into the deserted walkway and noticed a wooden door with a large, brass doorknocker. It was as if something was calling her name and compelling her to go inside. Dre made her way down the path towards the door. Part of her was curious. Part of her was terrified. But she knew she had to see what was drawing her, beckoning her. Before she even had the chance to knock on the door, a woman with crimson hair in a purple velvet robe flung it open. When Dre saw the woman standing before her, chills ran down her spine. It was her! The woman that kept appearing in her dreams.

“You’re finally here,” the woman exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to get through to you. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Who? Who? Wh...” Dre couldn’t get the words out. She was stunned. Speechless. And a little bit dizzy.

“I’m Melissa. I knew your father. We were very close leading up to his death. He always told me how much he loved you and wished things would have been different. He left something with me for you.”

Dre stood there with her mouth hanging open. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth? What is it?”

Melissa opened a tiny safe and handed a thick envelope over to Dre. Taped to the cover was a picture of Dre as a child with her father. As Dre opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of money, she was even more shocked.

“It’s $20,000,” Melissa told her. “Your father said you would be needing it one day, and I knew that time was now. He said you’d know what to do with it when the time was right.”

Dre sat down in the nearest chair she could find before her legs gave out beneath her. She looked at Melissa then back down at the cash in her hand. While she didn’t know exactly what she was going to do with it, she knew exactly what she was not going to do.

It was on that day that Dre stopped living in the past.