Dreams

There has been some interesting comments regarding my last blog "Changes". Should dreams remain just "dreams?" Are they landmarks that we nod at as we pass them by on our life's journey?

I believe in dreams. I believe in their power to change your life if you pursue them.

The first 26 years of my life I spent dreaming of one day finding and meeting my Birth Mother. Legal blocks, personal information blocks, family blocks--all said my dream was impossible.

Every book I read on the subject warned me against my dream. They warned of rejection. They warned of the impossible odds that lay before me.

The only personal information I had was the name of my birth town and the state. Armed with that I took a week off of work and drove the hundreds of miles to my birthplace. With driving time included, I had three days to collect as much data as I could once I arrived at my birth place.

Driving on the Freeway approaching my birthtown's city limits I felt electricity skitter through me. The first check mark on my list to acheiving my dream.

I pulled into a Mini Mart and purchased a map of the town. I smiled as I sat in my car opening the map. My first physical piece of information. It was small, but it was another check mark on the list.

I located the hospital that was listed on my "changed" birth certificate. I got out and took pictures of this place. This place where I last touched my Birth Mother as they pulled me from where I lived inside her.

I checked myself into a Hotel then drove to the local library. I spent the next two days searching through Fiche film for a legal adoption notice. My hands shook as I leafed through the images of the old papers. I imagined my Birth Mother reading these newspapers as she carried me. It made me smile even when my newspaper search ended with no sign of an adoption notice.

I drove over to the Welfare office. I walked past the security guard and rode up a private elevator to the Child Welfare office. I spoke with the receptionist who's desk resided behind bullet proof glass. I told her of my desire to find my birth mother. She sent a social worker out to meet with me.

He and I sat in a room and I spilled out my request to find my Birth Mother. He was bound by the laws of non-information. It didn't deter me. I talked, he listened, it was another check mark on my list.

I drove home the next day. The only information I had was the map of my birth town and the pictures I had taken of the hospital. But I had more. Much more. I had the dream that lay firmly planted in that secret place we store inside ourselves.

Back at home, one month later, I popped home for a quick bite of lunch before I had to return back to work. A large manila envelope was sticking out of my mailbox. My hands shook as I pulled it from the box. My body was humming with electricity.

I walked into my house then sat and breathed for a few minutes to calm myself before opening the envelope. I saw everything on that 8 1/2 x 11 typed letter in a blink. The words "Your Birth Mother walked into my office today" pounded over and over in my head.

I had done it. I had found my Birth Mother.

The feelings I had watching her walk up the airport ramp towards me, the feel of her as I hugged her to me, was indescribable.

Should dreams just remain "dreams?" Should they just be regarded as landmarks we nod at as move past them on our life's journey?

For me, the answer is a resounding no. There is nothing more powerful then the magic of dreams. Believe in them people. Believe and pursue them, passionately.