THIS PAST Wednesday afternoon, while walking in LA (let it not be said that nobody does it), I saw a house that I would love to own, in the area just north of Burbank and just east of White Oak. Here it is:
(That’s my future self avatar washing my future car too, for good measure.)
So right on time for the New Year, there was one of my 2018 intentions/visualizations, which I choose to believe I can transform one day into manifestations… or as I used to say, there’s a dream that I want to come true.
And hey, it’s a Super Moon tonight, so it’s a good time to set your intentions, right? Or wait, it’s a good time to get your hair cut? Or am I just supposed to wish upon a lucky star? I forget.
“When you wish upon a staaaaaaaar…. Makes no difference who you aaaaaaaare. When you wish upon a star, your dreeeeeams come truuuuuuuue…”
It’s January 1969. I am five years old, in my bedroom with yellow wallpaper in my family’s 3-bedroom, 2-bath Spanish bungalow in West Los Angeles, a block away from the 20th Century Fox studio lot. My room has a window seat with curtains and stuffed animals, and below the cushion there’s a built-in toy chest, the likes of which no other kid was ever so lucky to have, it seemed to me.
I am tickled to have my very own pink record player in my room, and have recently started my first record collection – so far, all of the records have an image of the Magic Kingdom in the center of the album. [Then, as now, Disney had its clutches in children almost from inception, and to this day, I still get giddy when I think about going to Disneyland. I can’t wait to take my nieces on one of their future trips here.]
I select a “Best of” record from my small but mighty collection, one with the big hits like “Zipadee Doo Dah” and “Bibbidi–Bobbidi–Boo,” and put it on the record player. I pick up the big fat arm holding the needle and place it as carefully as my pudgy five-year-old fingers will let me, haltingly, on the first track.
Soon enough, Jiminy Cricket is singing those hopeful words to me, instilling my belief that even though we may be different on the outside, on the inside there are no differences between any of us. It doesn’t matter who we are. We all have the same gift; we can have our dreams come true.
Fast forward 20 years. I “grew up.” I thought, “Oh, if only it were that simple.” I forgot how to believe in wishing, because not all of my dreams had come true. Being grown up wasn’t as awesome as I thought it would be for a while.
Now that I’m a little older (and a little less “grown up”?), though, I’ve moved past my initial disappointment of not having ALL of my dreams come true, and am beginning to be more grateful for my dreams that have come true.
The thing is, the cricket didn’t say “Every single one of your dreams, no matter how big or small, will come true.” No, he did not. He was less specific than that. He just said, “your dreams.” So that might mean some dreams, not all. (I know, I know, I really should have been a lawyer. Let’s move on.)
And so today, at the start of this year, I am grateful for every dream that I am living right now. I am healthy. I am clothed. I am fed. I am housed. I have transportation. These are the basics, and I am so grateful for the grace with which I have been gifted, with these conditions completely and utterly met.
I am in strong, healthy relationships with my family and friends. I love and I am loved. A dream come true.
I understand myself better now than I have up to this point in my life. All of the exterior changes I am going through are illuminating my inner strengths in a new way. I feel a strong sense of community both here in Los Angeles and in Vancouver. It has been a dream of mine to feel connected to more than one home, and now I do.
I am excited about all that 2018 is waiting to reveal, about seeing where the opportunities that present themselves take me. I am so happy to have old friends here, and excited about meeting new people and creating new friendships.
Tonight, I’m going to wish on a star and see what happens. I invite you to do the same.