“To go on, you have to be willing to walk in days of mystery.”

That was the takeaway from a vivid dream I had years ago. On the screen of my mind, while fast asleep, I was hiking up a mountain trail with a familiar group of people. The well-marked path seemed easy enough to follow. No chance of getting lost. We trudged up the steepest parts single-file through thick woods, until at last we reached a beautiful alpine meadow. Wildflowers speckled the hillside with color. We stopped in the warm sunshine to remove windbreakers and jackets. Some took long drinks of water.

After catching our breath, a few of us realized the trail was not clearly defined in the meadow. We wandered in different directions, searching for any hint of it. I remember laying a deflated inner tube on top of some brush as a marker—in case we lost our way. We combed the terrain for hours.

Another bunch of hikers came up the same path. They couldn’t find the trail either and huddled to discuss. Abruptly, they turned-tail to leave.

“Don’t you want to see what’s ahead?” a man from our group hollered to them.

But they continued to drop out of sight, and the last man waved his arm down sharply, as if to say, “No way!”

We kept hunting. Eventually, I came upon the inner tube and realized I’d been going in circles. Sighing, I shrugged my shoulders. Then stepping closer, I noticed the tube was now filled with air. I slung it over my arm, curious about the change.

Suddenly, a woman from our party yelled, “Hey! You gotta see this!” Continue reading