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Hello, my name is Nathan. Today, I woke up from a dream that took place over the time period of about nineteen and a half years. I don't know how they do it, but everything in my dream set me up for this day. It's almost as if my dream knew that I was going to wake up today and start my life. I'm normally a big fan of dreaming - especially the one you do during the day - but I'm a bit confused as to why my dream decided to put me to where I am right now.

Actually, with the way it ended, I would consider it a nightmare rather than a dream. The last few moments was so painful to bear. Right when the door shut, the dream ended, and I found myself standing a few meters behind it. There was so much confusion and anger and anything bad creeping through my mind. Towards the end of the dream, I was warned that it will be real difficult waking up; but I never imagined it to be like this. I kept wanting to go home, kept waiting to see when I'd be able to go home and see all the familiar things from my dream. But something told me that I can't go home anymore. I was told that I'm going to have to realize that I had to make this my home - whatever "this" is, is beyond me.

Everything is different. Nothing is familiar. I see all these faces, smiles and stares, none of which I recognize. The walls, the streets, the buildings, and everything in between and beyond them, it's all different. Then I find some stuff lying there, things that looked familiar. It's insane at how much better I feel just by looking at my blanket, pillow, and some other things that I brought from home. Familiarity has always been an important part in my life. I knew I was fragile, but not like this. Or maybe it was just that the greater part of twenty years made me too comfortable. To be honest, even though I'm all sheltered, clothed and fed, I probably would feel no different if I was thrown into a jungle with nothing, except maybe for the fact that I'll probably be dead in a couple hours.

When Jesus was on earth, the only thing he never had was a place to call home. He traveled from place to place, living wherever people welcomed Him. Even now, I have a place to call my temporary home; but Jesus never had that. It must've sucked. Realizing how big of an impact that home had on my life made me realize a whole new side of being fortunate. Like I said before, you can imagine all you want, but until you actually experience it for yourself, you'll never really know.

I think the part that hits me the most is that, yes, I have a home, but I can't go back to the place I know, to the people I know. To dead honesty, outside of my family, I don't think many people will really care that I'm gone. People wish me luck, tell me to work hard; but that's just part of the process of saying goodbye to someone; and more often than not, it just becomes a routine. One of my biggest fears is losing people that I care about, or knowing that they're in any sort of pain. So, now that I'm gone, I can't deal with any of that; and it hurts.

So it gets me thinking. Is it better to know where your home is, but yet you can't go back; or never having a home to begin with, so you're left with no knowledge of what home is like? I don't know. I'm still trying to figure out what the heck I've gotten myself into.

But even though it's hard to accept where I am now, I know that time heals almost all wounds. I've just got to keep on trecking along and hope that all this sacrifice will be worth the while in the long run.