When I Dream...

It’s four o’clock in the morning, the alarm clock wakes me up by playing “Redemption,” a song holding a special meaning in my life—and not simply because I wrote it. I climb from the bed, careful not to wake my beautiful wife, and dress for work. It may be Saturday, but I like to be present at the Center on the day someone graduates from the program and is born into the world a new person.

Today is Greg’s “birthday” as we call it. We have a surprise planned for him. He thinks he’s just going to leave the front gate behind and drive to his new apartment in his own recently purchased car. He has no clue that his parents will be waiting outside with little Benny, the eleven-month old son he has never laid eyes on. They haven’t told him that they won custody of the child after Benny’s mother was arrested for selling heroin out of her apartment a second time since having him. Once Greg is ready, custody of Benny will be transferred to him.

His is an amazing transformation, as are most who complete the program. Just after he turned sixteen, his parents brought him to me, hoping against hope that my program would help him, though nothing else had. He was out of control when he entered the program. He had a history of assaults and drug use for which the juvenile justice system had locked him up twice before. He’d been on probation since the age of twelve, and even though he spent a total of nine months in two different juvenile facilities, it didn’t deter him from doing as he pleased.

Though he is very intelligent, he simply quit going to school, preferring to sell drugs, party, and fight. His behavior was ripping his family apart with the constant fighting and irresponsibility, eventually escalating to abusing his siblings, and physical altercations with his parents. They feared for their lives near the end, so much so that they threw him out into the streets. Even though they took extreme measures to keep him out, such as changing the locks and installing an alarm system, it didn’t work. He would just kick the door in or break through a window.

Now he is a week into his first semester in college, pursuing a degree in electrical engineering. He works full time as an apprentice to an electrician. He has paid off all of his fines and restitutions. He even volunteers as a tutor to children diagnosed with severe learning disabilities.

Greg and others like him are the reason I have chosen this path in life. I was once a troubled teen with problems similar to his. Trouble at home, trouble with the law, and in school. There was no help for me; doctors failed, the juvenile system failed, loved ones failed. I fancied myself an outlaw and a rebel, thought I was a hard-ass, and had a misplaced pride in my criminality. I was too naive to even care about what I was doing to myself and my family. I landed in a real adult penitentiary for a decade and a half after being convicted of attempted murder.

Prison changed me; or rather prison helped me to see the error of my ways, and provided me with the time, resources, and opportunity to right those ways. Now, at the age of forty-five, I own a completely self-sufficient building renovation and maintenance company, and a real-estate firm. They have earned me enough money to be considered wealthy, and provided me with the means to do everything else I’ve ever wanted to do.

I have earned the right to sign my name beginning with “Dr.” after receiving a Ph.D. in psychology. I have founded the Centers for Troubled Teens: Behavior Modification Program--a program designed by myself to provide young adults and teens the opportunity and help that I never received before I ended up in prison or dead. I have also founded the Centers for Troubled Teens Emerald City Resource Assistance Program; a program developed to aid teens and young adults who are otherwise unable to find and stay on the right path, by providing guidance and assistance in obtaining and using resources such as education, career training, housing, child care, parenting, psychological support, legal aid, financial aid and management, and personal and family counseling.

In this way I can bring balance for the wrongs I have done.

Of all my achievements in life, none compare to the family I have built and my ability to provide for them. The angel whom I do not deserve as a wife, yet still has given me her heart and soul, the two beautiful little girls who have pushed all of the guilt, regret, ugliness, and pain from my heart, and filled it with pure joy and peace, have left me with a permanent smile affixed to a face once marred by a bitter scowl. My daughters’ love is the reason for which I live the life I now do.

On the way home from the Center, I think I’ll pick up the ponies I bought for them for Christmas. It’s still three months away, but I can’t hold out any longer. I keep daydreaming about the glowing, surprised smiles that make me putty in their hands. I want to see those smiles today. Besides, the fence around the field behind the house is finished and it’s a beautiful day for riding. I’ll get a dozen roses for my wife, too, to—

It’s four o’clock in the morning, the alarm clock on my television wakes me up with a loud crackle of static. I can’t afford cable. I climb from my bunk and dress for work, careful not to wake my cellmate. Another day in prison. Too bad I had to wake up. If it weren’t for the dream, I don’t think I could wake up and make it through another day.

Maybe one day, instead of waking from the dream, I’ll wake to the dream.