Visualization – Dream Home

This visualization included a couple of goals of mine in the future. I believe it’s because my dream home will require the input from a couple of my other goals. I think you’ll understand once you get into it… Here it goes…

It’s May. We finally found the home we’ve been looking for. It was a rainy April, but we didn’t mind because most of the time, our Realtor was showing us houses and he blocked the uncomfort with his large umbrella that ironically, blocked the rain just as the roof of our new home would block the uncomfort. It finally came… After feeling like we’d toured every house in the area, we found the one that would be our sanctuary for years to come. I remember the first time we pulled in…

The driveway had a little bump that I knew we’d have to level out if my Lotus wasn’t going to get scratched when I pulled into the garage. I felt uneasy from the start because that was the first thing I experienced, aside from the “Miller family” mailbox I knew I’d have to replace. But as we pulled into the driveway I noticed there’d be plenty of room to install a basketball hoop, one of the fun memories I had in the house I grew up in. I remember picturing me and Shaq going head to head in foul shots to win the championship, or saying to myself “if I make this shot, this girl will like me” and pictured my son doing the same.

We entered the home through the front door — as the Realtor said to us, “If you’re going to enter your future home, you want to enter just as all of your guests would”. We walked to the front door and I remember thinking how tall these doors were, it felt like I was a little child again, except I could reach the door knob. We entered into a foyer and I immediately pictured having one of those cool little containers people used to put their umbrellas in back in the old time TV show days… Mine would be a droid from Star Wars.

We had 3 routes we could take on the first floor. The first route to our left, leaded to a very open room in which the ceilings were high and the walls seemed to be nothing but windows. I pictured having a long couch, in an L shape, almost my round table for social events. I pictured me and my friends sitting around this social round table (even though it’s actually a perpendicular couch) laughing over drinks about the way our kids first reacted to a diaper change.

Straight ahead was the kitchen. I pictured Mother’s Day. I pictured me doing my best at my wife’s favorite breakfast, poached eggs. I never learned how to cook poached eggs, and I did a terrible job at attempting it, but she smiled and suffered through it giving me a smile as I served it in bed, she ate every bite. Even though I almost spilled the orange juice onto our 1,000 thread sheets she had bought specifically for our first night in our dream house together, she was happy.

To the right of the front door,  was the two car garage that held my Lotus and a 4 door BMW my wife chose because she wanted a big family.

Straight ahead, if you passed the kitchen as you entered through the front door, there is a stair case about 12 feet away from the entrance that leads up to the second floor. About 5 feet from the staircase on the second floor, was a bathroom that I remember picturing my kids fighting about how long one was taking, while the other one still needed to get ready for the first day of school. I pictured my first son always getting up late and always being caught between the awkwardly long showers of my other son. We had a stereo that I encouraged all of my kids to listen to as they got ready because that’s how I usually started my day since I’ve been young. I found that when you listen to music you love in the shower, you were less likely to think about how much it stinks you have to go to work, or school. That idea backfired as my second son loves singing in the shower.

Once you reach the second floor after climbing two flights of stairs, on the opposite sides of the bathroom, if you choose the left path, you will go down a short hallway that leads to the master bedroom. If you enter the master bedroom you will find it has it’s own entrance. When you walk in, at first it will seem as if you entered a hallway from a hallway. But as you reach the end of this pathway and look to your right, you will see a decently large room, with a balcony over looking the back yard. I remember going out on this balcony and picturing a table that my wife and her friends were sitting at, drinking a summer drink. She looks up to me, and we smile at one another. Both knowing the smile is to say, “I’m happy”.

To the right of the bathroom is a second bedroom, that will serve as a bedroom for my two sons until one is man enough to ask me to have the basement, which will serve as my man cave until then. They will share a room until that point. Why? Because I think it’s beneficial to conquer your fear to ask at a young age. To realize that “all I had to do was ask” and whichever son comes to that first will receive. It’s an important lesson that both will learn.

I walk to the back yard and realized it’s pretty large. I dreaded thinking about the labor it would take to mow this lawn. But then I pictured riding with my son, when he was young, on the mower. He had a sun hat on as if he was at the beach, because I’m very protective about sun burn. He’s laughing and holding the steering wheel and I can’t help but not pay attention to mowing the lawn. With my attention averted, once I thought I was finished, I notice many streaks of long grass. But I can’t help but smile because what averted my attention was my son laughing uncontrollably at me swerving the lawn mower each time he slapped the steering wheel. The flaws in the lawn are a reminder of how lucky I am.

As we pull away, I realize I haven’t told my wife any of these visions I’d had. I wanted this house… As we were sitting in the back seat of the Realtor’s car, I looked to her. I noticed she was staring out the window looking at the sky, smiling. I knew I didn’t even need to share my visions with her, because she had already formed her own. This house was ours.


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