The first year in Atlanta was fine, it was the following 6 months when things started to go bad. It wasn't just my illness either. It was an overall feeling. I was dating, I had friends, I liked driving in the mountains, going to shows in the city, etc., but something just wasn't right. It was in those last six months when I began having a recurring dream. It was one of those dreams that kept starting the same way, but each time I had it, more would be added. It wasn't until after I left Atlanta, or made the decision to leave, that the dream began to make sense to me. So here, I'll tell you the full dream:
Several people (maybe 5 others) and I are walking down a street together. It's a modern day street, black paved, but no sidewalks, so we're walking in the street. It's definitely a small town. The big trees form a canopy over the street. I'm feeling uncomfortable because everyone is trying to convince me to do something I don't want to do, and I'm being difficult about it. They all want to crash a party. Of course it's not just any party, as a dream would have it, it's a party during the Antebellum period. Not a dress up party, an ACTUAL party in the Antebellum period!! I don't want to go because, as I say, we're obviously NOT from the Antebellum period, so how are we supposed to get in. Then suddenly, we are in Antebellum clothing, and everyone says, "See, we'll be fine!" I still don't want to go, for fear that we'll be busted, but I give in.
The next thing I know, we are at the front door of the home where the party is, and the owner is welcoming us in. My friends (and I still have absolutely no idea who those people were!!) turn to the left after entering, and begin mingling and eating, but I am stopped by the owner. He's a sweet man. Older man, and he takes my hand and says, "You must be a friend of . . . . " I have never known the name he says, but it was a female name, and as part of my awkward cover, I say, "Oh yes, I am." At that point, he takes me to the right, back in to the kitchen. The kitchen is from the 1930s, not the Antebellum period or modern day. I can still see the white tile counter top and back splash, the chrome faucet coming out of the wall above the large sink, the stove area behind me, and the large set of windows above the sink. At this point, the owner says, "I'm so pleased you're here. <Insert female name> would have been so happy to see you. Of course we buried her out there," as he points out the large window to a tree just at the bottom of a slope, "It was her favorite spot." At this point, I realize the girl I pretend to know is dead, and was the owners daughter!! As if I didn't feel bad enough crashing this party in the first place, I now feel HORRIBLE for pretending to know this sweet older man's dead daughter! Then he says, "Would you like to go out and see?" How can I refuse? So I go. I wake up just as we get to the small plot under the tree. I feel terrible, and just want to get out of there. There is also a man out tending to the leaves or grass, raking, and he looks at me as if he knows I don't belong.
That's the dream. I never had it again after leaving Atlanta. My step-father came, packed me up, and moved me back to Texas to go to grad school. I slowly regained my health, and when I did think about that dream, I assumed it was my gut telling me that I didn't belong in Atlanta any more than I belonged at that party, or pretending to know the dead daughter. Looking back on it, I thought it was a pretty cool dream, until . . . .
A couple of years later, I was going to New Orleans with some friends. My friend Arlene and I were in her little truck, and the other couple we were traveling with were in their car. The couple told us that they wanted to stop at a little hamburger place they knew about, which was just off the highway. We followed. That's when the dream became something completely different!!! As soon as we exited for Vinton, Louisiana, I began to feel sick at my stomach, but thought maybe I was just hungry. I got completely quiet, and kept gripping the door handle. I was riddled with anxiety as we drove down THE street from my dream!!! It was EXACTLY the street my "friends" and I walked down as they tried to convince me to go to the party. I felt worse and worse as we approached the hamburger place. Fortunately for me, it was closed! Good!! I just wanted out of there, but couldn't explain why. In fact, I still hadn't said anything. I knew Arlene was observing my behavior, and once, even asked if I was ok, but I think I just nodded. To head back to the highway, we went up the other end of the U-shaped road. Good, I thought. I don't have to go down that street again!! Well, I wasn't home free yet. At the end of that road, just as we turned right, was THE HOUSE!! It was EXACTLY the house from my dream! My heart was racing, my palms were sweaty, and I felt sick. As we turned right, I saw a man in the back yard, raking leaves, under a tree at the bottom of a slope. Yes, same tree, same slope, etc. Once back on the highway, I was able to relax, breathe, and let go of the door handle. When she recognized that, Arlene turned to me and said, "Ok, what the hell was THAT all about??" She said I turned white as a ghost, and my reaction was really weird. So, I explained what happened.
From that point on, I avoided any contact with Vinton, La. Just the name gave me the creeps! However, On my recent trip to New Orleans in June, I had to drive past it on the highway. Of course now, I'm conditioned to be anxious about it, and passed it rather quickly. But, on the way back, I decided to face my fear, and just drive through there again. I wanted to see if the house was really there, if I had just had a weird reaction to nothing and harbored all this anxiety for all these years for no reason. So, I bravely exited the highway, and knew exactly how to get straight to it. It was there. Same house. Fighting my anxiety, I got out of the car and took a picture.
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