“Larimar, found only in the Dominican Republic, is a stone of “answers from the sea of consciousness,” which gives freedom from self-imposed limitations and a sense of peace in finding truth.”
“Oh my fucking God!” I screamed with hand to heart as I tried desperately to keep it from leaping out of my chest. Grasping my larimar necklace, a welcome gift from the Dominicans, my breath slipped away from me amongst the crowd of new coworkers as we sat on the Romanesque steps of the amphitheater to watch the Taino Indians dance to the rhythm of ancient drums down below in Altos de Chavón, The City of Artists.
Time seemed to have stopped and the scene before me grew quiet and froze as I peered around with tears in my eyes, chills running up my spine and jaw to the floor.
The moon was full that evening and around its circumference, a distinct halo drew a ring that seemed to simultaneously harness and release all my secrets in that fleeting moment. As if Roman soliders standing guard around the secret yet to be unleashed, the pillars below stood tall in circle formation, reflecting the moon above, with palm trees swaying between them, playing tricks with shadow and light. The drums echoed off the amphitheater steps and ricocheted off the canyon walls rising above the Chavon river, where Apocalypse Now was filmed. Everything I was experiencing was completely new, yet majestically familiar.
My coworkers turned to me and laughed and asked me what was wrong. At the risk of sounding like a complete lunatic, I explained briefly, gasping for air, “My dream! I’ve been here before! Even the halo, the steps, the pillars! How is that even possible?!” The sheer magnitude of what it all meant overrode everything.
“Whoa!” they chorused, looking at me as if they had seen a ghost.
That was it. I didn’t even have a running start. Not even 3 months into my career and I witnessed all the marbles I had left cascading down the steps and rushing the stage. With a brand new notebook in hand, I gathered my courage and walked down the steps in front of everyone, gathering my wits just as I had in the dream. I had graduated and moved on to the next level in education where my mind would be blown, time after time.
It was true. I had never been to La Romana and in fact, the Caribbean was the last place I wanted to explore up until I was offered a position as a graphic designer for Apple Vacations fresh out of college. The dream, however, took place during my last days of my senior year before I had even begun looking for employment or even heard of Apple. It was one of those dreams that sticks with you, yet you’re unsure as to why. I know enough to know by now that these are precisely the dreams to pay close attention to.
I never could quite put my finger on the phenomenon of Déjà Vu, which translates from French to ‘already seen.’ It wasn’t just about the mysterious recollection and peculiar sense that I’ve experienced this exact situation before in another time and place, it also fascinated me that I could almost predict exactly what would happen next. A premonition of sorts, but more tangible in these experiences because I was awake. Its bizarre hold on me never lasted more than a split second in this life, but its mystic nature had the power to sift through lifetimes. And maybe that’s the key afterall.
Like life and lucid dreams, the more you try to grasp these fleeting moments, the quicker they disappear. And they always disappeared, up until that night when I finally held the vision, discovering, once and for all, the eternal source of a sacred truth that had awoken within me.