The Dream

Five months ago, I closed my eyes and woke up in the house of an old derelict theater. I was sitting somewhere toward the middle, the red velvet seats were worn from use and the floor was sticky from years of spilled beverage. The air smelled of sweat, fresh paint, old popcorn, and cake makeup. The floor was a mess, littered with candy bar wrappers and program books. An older gentleman, in striped overalls and with balding red hair and a long wiry beard, crooked glasses on his nose, sat next to me.

"Brandon." He said. "What are you doing with yourself?"

"Well, I'm working at a great care facility and I'm living in the northend with my girlfriend and working on some scripts, things are pretty good." I responded.

"I didn't ask you what you have been doing, I asked you what you are doing with yourself." He responded, slightly annoyed.

"Yeah,  I know. I told you." I said.

He grabbed my arm tightly and looked me in the eye, his own filling with tears of desperation.

"You were given gifts. Gifts that are meant for bigger things. Things that are larger then you, or me, or anything you can possibly imagine. Please use them! You are wasting your talent." Tears slowly ran down his old face.

"I want to use them but I don't know how. Just, show me a way and I will." I said and then I woke up in my bed, next to my girlfriend, in the northend of Boise.

I thought a lot about my dream. Who was the man who was talking to me? Why was he so upset? What 'gifts' and 'talent' was he talking about? I thought back on my life, how I was always pretending to be somebody else and how I was always writing and telling stories. I knew then there was no doubt, by that time next year I would be in one of three cities: Los Angeles, New York, or Vancouver, finally working my way into the film industry. What I didn't know, is that in the course of the next five months, things would fall into place to prepare me both mentally and physically for this big transition. I would break up with my girlfriend over things completely unrelated to this decision to move. I would move out of the northend and in with a friend who would let me stay rent free, so I could save money, and my work offered me more hours and a raise to help out. all things began to fall into place.

Now I'm here, in a city of nearly 3 million people, with my best friend in the whole world. Just the two of us, barely enough money to get us here and settled, no gas, no jobs and plenty of homesickness but we're on our way.

I know we're going to make it, we just have to push a little harder each day. Why do I know this? Because I described the dream to my grandparents and they showed me a picture of my great great grandfather, he was the man who talked to me in the theater.

I will not waste my talent ever again.

Home

The Hobdey farm, 14 acres in Nampa Idaho. This is where I grew up, my very own "Shire." My parents and grandparents still live here, it will always be my home.

The tac room in the barn, horses are a big passion for me and I instantly have a love for anyone who rides them. Hoseback riding runs deep in my family and is something I will always enjoy.

Upper level of the barn, the small blur on the left is my puppy Cheza. :)

Roof of the barn.

The barn, built in the early 1900's. It's one of the most haunted structures in Idaho and featured on the Idaho Ghost Hunters website, I grew up with ghosts as friends.

Grandma and Grandpa's house.

Grandma Hobdey! :)

Our gelding buster. He's a big puppy and eats everything.

Just some of the pastures. Here we played night and day, sometimes as Soldiers, or Spies, or Power Rangers. Best playground ever.

Winter is the best! A favorite activity is to tie an old car hood behind one of the horse like a sleigh and then ride it, seeing how fast you can make it go without falling off on it!

My Grandpa Hobdey's old tractor, I think this model was made in the 1930's or 40's.

My sweet puppy Cheza! She's my pride and joy, but she loves Grandma and Grandpas way too much! I couldn't stand locking her up in an apartment all day so she's staying at The Shire for a while. i'm going to miss her! ;.;

Cindy Ray, she's ornery and will buck you off!

Front gate to Grandma and Grandpa's. I made that sign in shop class in 7th grade.

This stump is all that remains of a huge Russian olive tree, where I sat and read books for hours and hours as a kid. A storm blew it down a few years ago.

Another pasture shot.

Just the driveway, woo hoo.

Cindy and Buster. Look how FAT Buster is!

The scariest part of my journey is leaving home. I've been all over the country, but never on my own this way and it was always easy to just come back home. My grandparents have lived on their farm for over twenty years and I've always had family in Idaho. In fact, there's some family who have lived in Idaho for over one hundred years, so moving away, out of the country and taking this leap is a major transition for me. In so many ways, this is The Shire and Natalie and I are like two little Hobbits leaving home and setting off on a journey with unkown perils and unknown triumphs. Whenever I get sick, I go home and rest up with my family. Whenever I get sad or lonely, I go home and spend company with my family. Whenever I feel despair or confusion, I go home and get comfort and advice from my family. For a long time, I won't have that comfort anymore and visiting home will be reduced from once or twice a week to once or twice a year. This is probably the scariest thing I have ever done in my entire life. It's also the most exciting thing I've ever done. I bet this is what Huck and Tom felt like when they cast their raft into the Mississippi...

The door is open, our bags are packed, the road is in front of us. This burden is ours to bare and ours alone. This adventure is our to live and ours alone. Time to go.

"The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say."

-The Lord of The Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien