In the fall of 2015, I visited Dubrovnik, Croatia, for the first time. Upon entering the city walls, my heart began beating rapidly. It ultimately guided me to retrace the steps a series of recurring dreams. I recognized my old house. I connected with old friends.
When I reached the spot of one dream's climax, a woman invited me in for coffee. We conversed for over an hour in a mix of English, Italian, Croatian, and charades.
This was the first of many indisputable experiences that I know to be true, yet are unexplainable within the confines of our 3D reality.
Once I booked my ticket for this journey, I began having near-nightly dreams of the same, ancient city. It reminded me of Rome, where I had lived for four years. I knew in my heart that it was not Rome. In this place, I had friends and a full life. I was happy.
However, a common theme from this dream-city emerged: I was running from people that chased me. I was never afraid, for I could slip in and out of city walls and elude them. I knew the city and its shadows better than my pursuers.
In time, one dream began to regularly occur.
I was a teenager, running. Out of breath. Being chased and feeling calm. I turned a corner, and immediately took cover in a house that had a tapestry as a door. I quickly ducked inside and lay down to avoid being seen. I kept one eye on the street. As my breathing slowed, I saw 3 pairs of black, heavy boots tromping past the street, searching for me. They continued down the alley. I heard their shouts.
I awoke, relieved. Safe.
Duvbrovnik is a gorgeous, medieval, walled city.
As soon as we entered the Pile Gate, I felt as if I was in two realities at once. I looked around, not in awe of the city's beauty (which would come later!) but in complete shock. This was the city of my dreams. I recognized staircases and street corners immediately. Everything felt deeply familiar.
My heart began to race rapidly. In any other scenario this would have been cause for alarm, yet I knew that my body was speaking to me, guiding me.
I was on my first spiritual tour. As we walked the length of the city, I could barely think or speak. I asked the women near me what to do in a past life experience. "Just follow it!" they urged. "You are safe!" they assured me.
We were given "free time" and I immediately began navigating piazzas and winding streets. I felt like I was guided by my racing heart, being pulled to all the places I needed to go. My steps were certain as I explored a new city without a map. I felt confused and offended by new architecture. I frowned and thought, "that doesn't belong here." I continued to focus on my breathing as I was pulled to places unknown.
I soon arrived 1/3 of the way down a street. I stopped, and instantly knew that I was standing outside of my (once) home. "I'm home!" I exclaimed. Joyous laughter bubbled out of me, uncontrollable. I pressed my hands against the now filled-in doorway and willed it to open. The arched entryway and number are still visible, though the city wall has since been built around it.
Finally, I was home. I was thrilled. Finally. After all this time. I made it back to you. I had left the house in a hurry, and never felt closure around my departure.
This was the first time that I knew, deeply, something to be true that made no ostensible sense in a linear, practical world.
I used this home as my starting spot. As my delight calmed down, my heart began beating again. The home was but one stop on this journey.
In my most prominent dream, I was being chased. I felt no real danger, because I know the city and the shadows better than my aggressors. Starting from my home, I was able to retrace the route where I once fled. As I turned the corner, I thought to myself, "I wonder what has become of my hiding spot."
Immediately, I recognized the house that provided safety from my dreams. I spoke to a man in the street, who called to a woman inside *the* house. No longer was it a safe house, but a typical Croat home.
A kind woman came outside. She started talking to me and immediately invited me in for coffee. She showed me pictures of her family and her wedding. She took me on a tour of her 3-room, 2-story home. She shared the honey that her father had harvested. It felt important that I see and understand the pivotal moments of her life. We conversed for over an hour in a mix of English, Italian, Croatian, pictures, books, and charades.
Her name is Sjena. In Croatian, the name means "shadow" - the very play upon light and dark that guided my eventual escape from the city.
Upon parting, we exchanged necklaces as gifts. We took no photographs.
Less dramatic though equally impactful, I was first led to a Jesuit church around the corner from "my house". I meditated in front of a Franciscan altar, then was led up a staircase to some pyramids on the roof of the church. In this moment I believe I was reconnecting with the city and receiving information to be able to retrace the steps of my dreams so fluidly.
I do not know how all of these spots were open or unguarded, - after I had done my work I heard guards blocking other tourists from taking the stairs. (Nobody saw me).
I meditated, I observed, I took photographs. I felt a deep sense of relief that I had found my way back to a place that was, at one point, a place of deep comfort.
I knew, too, that it had also served as an organizing place of resistance.
The next day I walked the city walls, again retracing steps of a different dream. I knew that my primary work was complete, though continued being pulled to particular locations. I acquired objects, balanced energies, and reconnected with the city. I even recognized someone I dated in this strange past-life and we conversed (he had no idea, of course!)
I later channeled that I had been forced to flee, and had to leave the city unannounced and unprepared. I felt like a massive rift had been righted by my return, by my dreams, and with the energy work I had done.
My immediate sense of relief at returning 'home' to Dubrovnik later made me more flexible in my approach to what, or where, home actually is. I released a huge sense of attachment during this process - though I still feel that same sense of comfort whenever I walk the mountains of Colorado. There is, indeed, no place like home.