A Face Like Yours

I had a dream last night. 

It was just like any odd dream, til it hit me that it wasn’t. It was a callback to a seed that was planted nearly three years ago. A wake up to personal power. 

I was at someone’s housewarming party. But it was the housewarming party for someone that I don’t know. I have met him in passing in waking life, but I’ve never exchanged a word with this person. I only know of them through their art, their creative expression— but not in any form of a personal way. But anyways, back to the dream. 

I’m standing outside of this beautiful home in the yard, observing everyone there. I wasn’t noticed much by anyone, and while no one knew me, I knew them. I knew who they all were. But I was just a fly on the wall, an observer to a life I’ve never personally lived— but I was there. I was one of them. 

Somehow I switched indoors, and I was sitting on a bed with multiple people. We were all relaxed, watching something together on a tv. I was under the blankets but everyone else was laying on top of them. And in the awkwardly charming way of the person whose home it was, he came up to me on my left side, furthest away from everyone else, and just looked at me and said, 

“Have we met before?” He moved towards me and sat by my side. 

“We’ve passed one another, but never talked.”

“I’d remember because I’d never forget a face like yours.” He leaned in closer, “You’re an old soul. A very old soul... I can tell.” He stared darts through me. 

What was even weirder is, in no other part of the dream was he old— but in this moment, he was an old man. And I mean long, silver hair old. In reality, he is only a year older than me, and I had just seen him outside the house prior to at his current age. 

I just laid there absolutely stunned. He studied me as I tried to sit up, but since he had sat down by my side, and everyone else around me on top of the blankets, I couldn’t move. Cue the awkwardness of my own self flailing around like a fish under these blankets, trying to raise my arm out to shake his hand. 

“I’m Haili.” 

He was still taking in my essence. It was like he saw dragons sitting on my shoulders. 

I’m wanting to throw up and cry at the same time. If I would have had this dream years ago I would have went absolutely delusional, despite him looking 40 years older than he really is. 

I finally wiggled myself half sat up, but still hidden, and confused by the quietness yet longing in his gaze, I continue, “I am 5’3” and I have really long, blonde hair,” trying to paint the picture of myself. This man is still studying me like I’m a puppy to pick from a dog pound. I face palm mentally from the way I’m describing myself, but I’m still covered by this blanket, and he’s still looking at me like I’m an alien from a different planet. 

He extended his arm to tuck my hair behind my ear, turning his body to fully face me, and felt like he was mentally communicating to me that he didn’t need me to speak— he understood me fully because he could read energy. He goes in to embrace me in a hug. Nothing else was said. 

I switched to being back outside, helping tear down this party. There was some sort of blow up pool that needed deflated, and I was put on the task. I start opening the air valves, but quickly found a wasp nest by part of it. I finished opening all the valves, but couldn’t roll it up to push the air out. 

Some woman I’ve never seen before got mad at me for “not helping.” I reaffirmed her that me doing this much is help enough, and I was not risking pissing off wasps to get a task done. She stomped off in frustration, while I felt empowered— and still slightly confused, processing what I’ve just went through inside. 

Then I woke up.

I just thought, “man, what a dream,” and laughed it off. 

Til I remembered my own personal interaction with this person in real life. 

-

Three years ago, the weekend of Labor Day, I came to Nashville to look at apartments before I moved the following month. I was freshly 22 and excited for a new journey. Sat at a bar inside of a local restaurant with a friend at the time, discussing which apartments we liked, I saw him sitting in the corner alone. I started shaking and I told my friend quietly. We hadn’t even finished our first drink. 

“You’re just screwing with me,” she laughed off, til she looked over and saw him too. We both went silent and stared forward, not daring to be caught looking at him.

At this time I’d never met a “famous” person, let alone my favorite member of my favorite band. I’m from BFE of Ohio. This was my first time in Nashville. and I literally had tickets to his concert the following week in a different state… and he’s not playing clubs. This man’s band is headlining arenas. 

We were trying to stay cool, because we both knew we weren’t going to approach him. We wanted to leave him be. He had been on what seemed to be a heated phone call when he first came in. Neither of us wanted to be on our phones, scared he could read that as people posting his location online to other fans. He’s maybe 15 feet away. 

This restaurant is small, and as the place is dying down, anything we talk about can be heard by him. I couldn’t even bring my glass of wine to my mouth without smacking my teeth.

I decided that doing something with my hands would help turn the focus elsewhere. I have tarot cards in my car. I grabbed my keys, walked to the entrance to get them out of my car, and push on the door. 

It’s a pull. It’s a fucking pull door.

He’s literally three feet from me, facing the entrance. He’s watching me push a pull door. I remember thinking, “oh my god, could this be any more embarrassing?”

I came back inside and pulled some tarot cards for my friend. I don’t remember the nature of the pull, but I remember the ace of wands being in the reading. Me being the cheeky reader I am, said, “oh my god, you’re gonna get some dick soon! Look at the art on the card. What do you think it looks like?” I said teasingly, giggling.

For those who don’t know, the ace of wands is typically depicted with a hand holding a staff. You can let your mind fill in the blanks. 

This snapped his attention. Because as soon as I said “dick,” he looks right at me and gets up from his small table in the corner and comes to sit at the bar. An L shaped bar. He’s facing us, just staring with his sanpaku eyed gaze. It’s intense. The smile on my face turns into stuttering over the other cards I pulled.

He orders another margarita. We order another glass of wine. The place is clearing out and there’s barely anyone left outside of the staff, me and my friend, and him.

I’m trying not to shit myself. Everything I say he can hear very clearly. I can’t awkwardly fidget now. I know he knew we knew who he was the more he watched and listened. But he was enjoying watching us squabble, I’m sure. From what little I knew about him, that seemed just in his nature. 

There’s not much else to say other than two girls at a bar were very clearly trying hard to fit in a place they were new in. But he just gawked at us with no shame. It’s not even like there was a TV behind us he was looking at or observing. He just sat, drinking his drink, staring at us. 

I wish I were lying. But I’m not. When we closed tabs, the bartender took our cards at the same time. I remember thinking, “holy fuck, my credit card just touched his credit card.” 

It makes me laugh so hard now. Because he’s literally just a guy. 

Now that I’ve lived here for nearly three years, I have had plenty of experiences amongst the music scene that are interesting. But I don’t really think about people any differently than just being people. It’s even funny for me to admit out loud that I felt like this at one time. But the parallels of my real life experience are very similar to the dream experience. The only difference is me realizing that, I have an energy that is intense— and I own it. 

Maybe he thought I was pretty, crazy, intuitive, or just plain nuts. I’ll most likely never know. I also haven’t ran into him the entirety of the rest of the time I’ve lived here. I think that a blessing— but I’ve heard he has a strong memory for faces— and apparently my subconscious wanted to remind me of that. 

Remembering all of this did remind me that I am also a person as much as he is. And in my own awkward way, I’m allowed to take up space by just showing up as myself.

This story wasn’t about him, but about what I have taken from the experience—awake or asleep. Clearly, at the least, I’m entertaining. At best, I’m unforgettable.