I Had A Dream

I had a dream that I didn’t live a life with a mind in a constant war with paranoia.

I could easily access the history of my lineage, without emptying my pockets and questioning how much of this information was falsified to further strip me away from who I am.

I had a dream that I actually had my parents’ parents in my life. I could hug my grandparents and elders from my old neighborhood, and share joyful stories about their lives. I could visit them in a home that has been in the family for generations, and stare at it like one day it’ll be mine to pass along too.

I had a dream that the “Hustlers” on our blocks taught the kids knowledge and street smarts. Lessons about the importance of owning your own, and lessons about never spreading hurtful ideologies or violence in our own communities. Lessons that remained deeply engrained in our culture because we didn’t have weapons, drugs, and oppression precisely planted by outsiders to confuse our spirit from unity’s importance.

I had a dream that my joy as a Black man, wasn’t seen as a threat to people who don’t look like me. That my self-expression and reluctance to conform to social norms was highlighted as a sign of creativity, and not dimmed by headlines calling me a “Problem.”

I had a dream of a rebirth…

In this dream, I was there.

We were there.

I lived it.

It was vivid.

It wasn’t too far from reach.

It wasn’t too far from my lifetime.

But, in order to make it reality...

We needed a lot more hearts to fall out of love with a nightmare...