I have a theory. Tell me in the comments if you agree. I think the majority of people are blessed with superpowers. The gift of prophecy, the gift of healing, telepathy, others that I haven’t yet heard of. There are so many stories of people doing incredible things that, at least to me, it almost seems… common. Like, how does everyone has a secret ability they’ve possessed their whole life, but never speak of because they’d get called crazy?

I’m a firm believer in the phrase “Everybody can’t be telling the same lie.” An old proverb.

When I think about it, no one has necessarily called me crazy for believing in my superpower, but as I got called crazy for every other part of my personality, the fear kind of creeped into this thing too. In this past year however, I’ve met so many people that have had the exact same experience that I thought I would just be open about it.

So, here’s my story on how I found out my dreams could tell my future.

There was a home I dreamt when I was 12. White stucco walls, pink Spanish tile roofs under a cloudless blue sky, double doors and a massive archway. It came to me in 2011.

After I wrote it down I forgot about it. Well, maybe not forgot, but it wasn’t on my mind every day.

Fast forward to the spring of 2013: my mom, older sister and I are driving around town in Texas, a day of eating and looking at houses. As we drive down the road passed my high school, I suddenly notice a large hill – a mountain, and recall it from my dream. My heart stopped. I thought, Wait, is that what I think it is? I had told my mom about the dream when it happened, and she and my sisters and I had come together in a circle to pray over our new house before we’d moved. But I did not think that whatever was happening would happen. 

I told my sister to turn down the street. “This is the one from my dream,” I exclaimed. But they were confused – they specifically remembered me mentioning palm trees, so they thought we’d find the house in Hawaii. We rounded the corner, and behold: palm trees. Right there in Central Texas.

We kept going and turned into a subdivision full of big, beautiful houses. I don’t remember the force that was leading me, but when I saw where the main street headed a conviction filled me. I told my sister to head straight up the hill. At the top, there would be a mailbox and a light post to the left. The house we would live in was the first house next to them.

They were excited, jumpy. My mom was asking me about everything we passed, “Kayla, do you remember this? Kayla, did you see that?” But I told her no, we had to keep going until we saw the mailbox. 

We arrived at the top, and I held my breath. The moment of truth, was I in the middle of a miracle, or was it just wishful thinking? We slowed at the stop sign and looked to the left.

There, on the right side of the street: a street light that looked like it’d been pulled out of Narnia, and a rectangular mailbox sat to its right.

My heart stopped. My mom gasped. My sister was silent.

We turned, crept around the bend, and came upon a big, beautiful Tuscan-style home. Wow, if I could convey my mom’s excitement. I’m sure I hadn’t told anyone about the color because neither family member mentioned that the roof was brown where it should have been pinky-red. We hopped out, and it just so happened that the house was still in the process of being built. 

Walking around inside left all of us in awe. It was a big house, alright. Stone floors and big windows and high ceilings like a true southern mansion. My mom was sold. She started convincing my dad that evening. But me? I could not let go of the roof. It wasn’t right. 

My parents found out that the house was being built for a specific family, so they requested one too. It was to be the home that they retired in, and passed down through the family for generations to come. I came to see the foundation after it’d been poured – I didn’t see it again until it was finished, when I was almost 14.

When the day came, I was so nervous to get out of the car. I’d pulled the sun visor down so I couldn’t see the house without slouching in the seat. I closed my eyes, or my mom covered them, I don’t remember. I was pulled into the middle of the street, the hand left my face, and there it was. The house from my dream. 

We lived in that house for 12 years. It belongs to another family now, but for a long time I walked in it thinking about how God moves, and how crazy it was that He’d work through a young me that way.

The thing is, my church leaders gave me the instructions to write down all of my dreams, as many as I could remember. And over time I’ve watched many of them come true.

So now, I’m leaning full-force into them. Kind of like, if I recognize that I’m living in the middle of something I dreamed a while ago (and that is currently the case for me), I’m following the path showed to me. I haven’t seen every moment of my life, of course… I think that would probably suck. But I know where I am right now, and I know which ones are starting to overlap, and that’s all I need.

So that’s me, that’s my superpower. What’s yours, and how does it show up in your life?

Thanks for reading!