The Dream That Became a Doorway
I thought I understood it… until I lost my joy
The dream arrived during a very specific season of my life. I had just returned from spending six weeks in a safe house in Romania, working alongside anti-trafficking groups. It was meaningful work, the kind that carries both purpose and weight, and I was fully immersed in it at the time. There was no sense of searching or questioning then. I was simply doing what I believed I was meant to do.
And then, without warning or expectation, this dream came.
Once upon a time 😊 a woman, known as Neşe, with a heart full of passion to help women escape human trafficking felt compelled to sell all that she had and moved to a foreign country to learn the women’s language. Neşe purchased a small house and spent the remainder of her funds to create a beautiful, cozy safe home with lovely fabrics hanging on the wall with brilliant colors. The colors were so vibrant and bright, Neşe called them the colors of joy.
Even now, I can still see that house with remarkable clarity, not just in its physical details, but in the feeling it carried, because it wasn’t subtle or quiet in any sense of the word. It was alive with color and light in a way that felt almost otherworldly, as though you had stepped into a space where joy didn’t just exist, but surrounded you completely.
The walls were swathed in rich, jewel-toned fabrics—deep blues, vibrant reds, glowing golds—materials that seemed to shimmer as though they were catching light from every direction. It wasn’t a single source of light you could point to, but rather a warmth that seemed to exist everywhere at once, like the soft, radiant glow of the mosaic lamps you might find hanging throughout the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul. The kind that cast intricate patterns and make everything feel both intimate and expansive at the same time.
There were no visible candles, and yet it felt as though the entire space was lit from within. The light didn’t simply illuminate the room, it moved through it, reflecting and dancing across the fabrics so that everything seemed to glow. It was vibrant, abundant, almost as if there were tiny flecks of light suspended in the air itself, catching your eye just enough to make you pause and take it in.
Nothing about it was restrained. Nothing about it was quiet. It was a full expression of beauty, warmth, and joy, offered generously, without hesitation, as though the space itself was saying to every woman who entered: there is more here than you expected, and there is more for you than you thought possible.
And then the women began to arrive.
