I Took 15 Minutes.

1. If you were to close your eyes and visualize what your dream looks like, how would you describe it? What does it look like? What does it feel like? If it feels right to simply address your piece of the pie, your current and personal preparatory state of the dream, then write about that. If it feels right to describe what the physical or emotional space looks like to you, then do that. Wherever you are in your vision, go with it. Give your desires shape and life through your words.

It’s on the corner. At the end of an urban street. But not a scary urban street. The kind of street you wouldn’t worry about your high school students hanging around on a Saturday night with their friends.

There’s the café. You know. The one that doubles as a music venue/Irish pub at night. There is a porch. Umbrellas. The kind of outdoor furniture you have to bolt to the ground because people would steal it if you didn’t.

Above it you can see the windows of my private practice. When you enter the café, no one knows if you are there for coffee or therapy. Or maybe both.

Down the hall at the back of the café you see the doors to the private rooms used for art classes and community group meetings. At the end of it you see the industrial doors that lead to the warehouse. We didn’t bother to cover the graffiti.

The warehouse is massive. There are multiple dance studios. Recording rooms. Art labs. Not to mention the gym. Where the winterguard gets prime practice time over the basketball team. But don’t worry. The basketball team gets time too.

I always picture the space differently. But I always picture myself walking through it in the same way: I see all the important people in my life working their passion into the different parts of the space. Tina is usually sweating... her arms stretched up and outward in the middle of some dance set... her students watching... waiting for their turn. Ian always has headphones on... neck muscles flexing almost in rhythm to whatever masterpiece he is working on. Mike is always bent over an easel... and now he pulls a little girl with red hair and a crooked smile up onto his knee to see the picture he was sketching of her mother. My dad is working the bar with Vicki... they make jokes and throw shit at each other. My mom and Kate are arranging the flowers on the tables, checking on the books in the library and gift wrapping the items people are buying in the craft shop/gallery. And now I see Kevin and his dad in the kitchen... and they always let me taste the new dish they’ve been working on.

I never actually envision myself doing anything... except enjoying. And finally feeling home again.

2. What does your dream need right now? How can you (or WE) support it? This could also include how you are feeling currently.

My dream needs the meat. It needs the street cred. It needs the mother fucking PhD. It needs the butts in the seats and the cash in the pockets.

We need to be established and successful. We need the proof that this will be worth the investment. We need to stop waiting until Sunday night to finish all of our homework. We need to live the way we want to now... even if the space doesn’t exist to make it all easier yet. We need to celebrate the small steps we are taking... even if we miss our regularly scheduled everythings. Because we are taking steps.

A dream this big needs the time to grow.