The Scent With My Name On It.

Author’s Opening Note

Here is something most folks do not realize about dreaming. Your mind can build a whole world while your body is laid out flat in a bed somewhere minding its business. In a dream you can walk miles, talk to people you never met, smell things that do not exist, and wake up wondering if your spirit went on a small trip while your body stayed home.

Now scientists will explain dreams with long words and diagrams. They will talk about the brain sorting memories and emotions and all kinds of intellectual things that sound impressive in a lecture hall. Grandmothers explain dreams a little different. They say sometimes your soul is having a conversation with truth while the rest of you finally shuts up long enough to listen.

Personally I sit somewhere in the middle.

Some dreams are nonsense. Just the mind tossing scraps around like somebody cleaning out a drawer. But every now and then a dream comes along that makes you sit up on the edge of the bed scratching your head like hold on now. What exactly was that about.

That is the kind of dream this one was.

It showed up early on the morning of March twelfth before the sun had even stretched its arms over the horizon. That quiet hour when the world feels like it is holding its breath. You know the hour I am talking about. The hour when even the loud people finally stop talking and the night air carries a softness to it.

Now I am not the type to wake up claiming every dream is some divine telegram from heaven. If that were true I would have already dreamed up the winning lottery numbers and retired somewhere peaceful eating beignets and minding my business.

But this dream had weight to it.

It had elevators that did not behave right. Stores that changed when you blinked. A woman smiling like she knew something about me I had not quite figured out myself. And of course my mother appeared in the middle of all that confusion sounding exactly like mothers sound when their grown child is somewhere acting confused and dramatic.

You will also notice something about the way this story moves. It laughs a little. It pokes fun at me sometimes. That is intentional. Where I come from if a story cannot laugh at itself it probably is not telling the whole truth.

But underneath the humor there is something serious sitting there.

This reflection is about being lost.

Not the simple kind of lost where you miss your exit and end up ten minutes out the way. I am talking about the deeper kind. The kind where life throws so many doors in front of you that you cannot tell which one is opportunity and which one is a hallway that goes nowhere.

Sometimes opportunity looks shiny but leads you in circles.

Sometimes the thing meant for you is something you almost refused.

And sometimes guidance shows up in the most unexpected places.

Even in a place with nine hundred stores.

The Scent With My Name On It

A Dream About Being Lost, Being Hardheaded, and Finding the Road Back.

By Kāteb Shunnar

Now let me tell you how this whole strange business started.

In the dream I was headed to an event. Some kind of opportunity. You know how folks talk when they say man this might be the thing that opens the door. The kind of event where people shake hands, nod serious, and act like everybody in the room might become important tomorrow morning.

So I step inside this big building and right there waiting on me is an elevator.

The doors sitting open quiet like it been expecting me all day.

Now elevators normally behave themselves. You press a button and it carries you where you asked to go. Simple agreement between man and machine.

But dreams do not respect agreements.

I stepped in thinking I was going to the top floor.

Doors close.

Elevator moves.

Doors open.

And suddenly I am standing inside a shopping center so large it looked like somebody built a small city indoors.

Lights everywhere.

People moving around.

Music floating through the air.

Stores lined up farther than my eyes could follow.

Later I found out that place had about nine hundred stores inside it.

Nine hundred.

Now at first that kind of thing feels exciting. You look around thinking man there got to be something good in here somewhere. Possibility sitting in every direction like plates of food at a family reunion.

But after a little while something else creeps in.

Confusion.

Too many choices will scramble a person mind if they not careful.

So I walk into one store just to see what is inside.

Nice place too. Shelves lined up neat. Lights shining bright. All kinds of things sitting around looking important.

Inside that store was another elevator.

So I stepped in.

Doors open again.

But when I step out I am not on the second floor of the same store.

I am standing inside a completely different store.

Different walls.

Different products.

Different everything.

Now I pause for a second.

Because my mind trying to understand how you take one elevator and end up somewhere that was not connected to where you started.

So I step back in the elevator.

Press the button to go down.

Doors open again.

And now I am somewhere else entirely.

At this point I start giving the place what we call a good old mean mug. The kind of look that says something here is playing games and I do not appreciate it.

I step out into the hallway looking around.

Every direction looks brand new.

No landmarks.

No familiar signs.

Just store after store after store like life done laid out every possible path and said go ahead pick one.

After walking a while I finally say to myself alright now Kāteb that is enough of this foolishness.

Let us go home.

So I find what looks like an exit and walk outside.

But somehow when I step through the doors I end up right back inside another section of the mall.

Now this part looked different.

No big stores.

Just vendors with small carts.

Little tables covered in cloth.

Glass bottles lined up like soldiers waiting on inspection.

The air smelled sweet and heavy with perfume and oils.

People moving slow through the aisle smelling things and nodding their heads like they just discovered a secret.

And that is when a young woman stepped in front of me holding a small card.

Try this fragrance she said.

Now listen I had bigger problems at that moment than smelling like roses and mystery. I was lost. Proper lost. The kind of lost that makes your patience start packing its bags.

So I waved my hand politely.

No thank you.

Then I asked the question that had been sitting on my chest.

Excuse me miss how do I get out of here.

She looked at me.

Then she laughed a little.

Not a mean laugh.

More like the laugh somebody makes when a person asks a question they already know the answer to.

Exit she repeated.

Yes maam exit. I need to get home.

She picked up a small bottle and sprayed something gently onto the card.

Try this one Kāteb she said soft.

Now that right there made me pause.

Because I never told that woman my name.

But she said it like she been knowing me since childhood.

Kāteb Shunnar she whispered smiling wide like a sunrise.

This one was made for you.

And for some reason the way she said it made the whole noisy mall go quiet inside my head. So now I am standing there holding this little card like it might suddenly start talking back to me.

And the smell from that card had not even reached my nose yet.

But that woman smiling at me like she knew something I did not know about myself.

That kind of smile will make a person suspicious real quick.

Because there are two types of smiles in this world.

One smile says hello.

The other smile says I know something about you.

And she definitely had the second one.

I squinted my eyes at her the way folks do when something feels just a little too smooth.

Now wait a minute I said.

How you know my name.

She did not answer that question.

Instead she just held the card closer and said soft like somebody talking across church pews

Go on now. Smell it.

It belongs to you.

Now listen.

I am a reasonably calm person most days.

But being lost will test the patience of a saint. And by this point my patience was packing its suitcase and calling a taxi.

So I sighed and took the card from her hand.

Just to humor the situation.

I closed my eyes and lifted the card toward my nose.

And the second that scent reached me my whole body paused.

I mean completely paused.

You ever smelled something so beautiful it stopped your thoughts.

That is what happened.

It was warm and bright at the same time.

Like orange blossoms drifting through fresh rain.

Like cedar wood sitting in sunlight.

Like something familiar and brand new at the same time.

The smell felt alive.

Not loud.

Not aggressive.

Just right.

I opened my eyes slowly and looked at her.

Now hold on now I said.

That right there is something serious.

She just nodded.

Still smiling like a woman who already knew exactly what I was about to say next.

I want to buy it I said.

Go ahead and ring that up.

She shook her head.

No.

Now when somebody says no to money that tends to get your attention.

No I repeated.

What you mean no.

She leaned forward a little and lowered her voice like she was sharing a secret that had been waiting a long time to be told.

Kāteb.

This fragrance was made only for you.

Nobody else has it.

Nobody else will have it.

It belongs to you already.

And it is free.

Now let me tell you something about human nature.

When somebody says something is free your brain does not celebrate right away.

Your brain gets suspicious.

Because we live in a world where even free samples usually come with a catch hiding somewhere behind the counter.

So I folded my arms and looked at her again.

Hard this time.

Who are you I asked.

And where in the world am I.

Now my voice came out louder than I meant for it to.

Frustration will do that.

You spend enough time lost and suddenly your politeness starts running low on fuel.

Her smile faded just a little.

Not angry.

Just disappointed.

Like somebody watching a child get upset over something they do not yet understand.

No need to raise your voice she said gently.

You are alright.

You are just confused.

Now that right there did not help my mood at all.

Because nobody likes being told they confused when they already know they confused.

So I gave her what people back home call a good strong mean mug.

One of those looks that say I am not in the mood for riddles today.

Then I turned and walked away from her cart.

I was done with perfumes and mysterious smiles.

I needed to figure out where I was and how to get back home.

But the moment I stepped away from that aisle something strange happened again.

The mall disappeared.

Just like that.

No slow fade.

No warning.

One step I was surrounded by perfume carts and crowds of people.

Next step I was standing on a quiet winding road.

Trees stretching tall on both sides.

Grass so green it almost glowed.

The kind of green you see after a long rain when the earth looks freshly washed.

Now that sudden change will make you stop walking real quick.

I turned around slowly expecting to see the mall behind me.

Nothing.

Just the road curving off through rows of trees.

That is when the feeling hit me fully.

Lost.

Not the playful kind.

The serious kind.

The kind where the silence around you starts feeling a little too quiet.

So I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my phone.

If there is one person on earth who always knows how to bring a little order into chaos it is your mother.

So I called mine.

The phone rang once.

She answered right away.

Hello.

Mom I said.

My voice already starting to crack a little.

I think I am lost.

Now mothers have a very special tone they use when they hear their child say something like that.

Not panic.

Not fear.

Just calm authority.

Lost she said.

Where are you son.

Now that question right there irritated me a little because if I knew where I was I would not be making this call.

Mom if I knew where I was I would not be telling you I am lost.

She sighed softly.

Alright she said calm down.

We are going to get you home.

But I need you to work with me.

Walk to the nearest street sign and send me your location.

Simple instructions.

Very mother like.

So I started walking down the road looking for a sign.

But the farther I walked the stranger things got.

No intersections.

No signs.

Just road bending through trees like it had no interest in telling anyone where it was going.

After a while frustration started climbing back up my shoulders.

Mom I said into the phone.

I do not see any signs.

I do not know where I am.

Please help me.

And that is when something inside me cracked open a little.

Because suddenly I felt small sitting there on the edge of that road.

I sat down on the curb.

And before I could stop myself tears started rolling down my face.

Now grown men do not always admit when they cry.

But confusion mixed with fear will bring water to your eyes quicker than pride can stop it.

My mother voice came through the phone steady as a church bell.

Kāteb

Get up.

Focus.

You have wandered too far off son.

Going places you should not have gone.

Now I wiped my face and took a slow breath.

Mom I said.

I was just trying to go to an event.

An opportunity.

Trying to better myself.

She paused.

Then she said something that landed heavy in my chest.

Every opportunity that looks good is not meant for you.

Some of them will lead you so far from home you will not know how to get back.

So calm down.

And send us your location.

We will send help.

I sat there quiet for a moment listening to the wind moving through the trees.

Then I asked her a question.

Mom where are you right now.

She answered in a voice that sounded peaceful.

I am in a place you need to be.

Then she said something even stranger.

Walk back down that winding road.

Go back to the mall.

Your ride home will be waiting there.

Now if somebody else had said that I might have argued.

But when your mother gives instructions you tend to follow them.

So I stood up and started walking.

Back down that quiet road.

Holding that little perfume card in my hand.

And the whole time that scent drifting through the air around me like it had something important it was trying to remind me of.

Eventually the trees began to thin out.

And just like before the road shifted.

The mall appeared again.

Standing there bright and loud like it never left.

And right on the corner of the entrance stood a woman dressed in emerald green.

She looked straight at me and called out

Kāteb.

Kāteb Shunnar.

I walked toward her slowly.

Yes maam.

That is me.

She took a deep breath when I got close.

Then she smiled wide.

What fragrance do you have on she asked.

It fits you perfectly.

Now come on.

We have to get you home.

She reached out and took my hand.

And the moment our hands touched

the whole world vanished.

And just like that everything disappeared.

No mall.

No emerald woman.

No winding road.

Just silence.

Then my eyes opened and I was staring at the ceiling in my own room like a man who just got dropped back on earth after traveling through somewhere strange.

Now I laid there for a minute blinking slow.

Because when you wake up from a dream like that your brain does not immediately return to normal business. Your mind still standing halfway inside the dream trying to understand what exactly just happened.

I sat up in the bed and rubbed my face.

The room was quiet.

But that feeling from the dream was still sitting inside my chest like a note from a trumpet that had not finished ringing yet.

I kept thinking about that perfume.

That woman saying it was made only for me.

Nobody else in the world had it.

And the strange part was the second woman recognized it immediately.

She did not ask where I bought it.

She did not ask what brand it was.

She simply smelled it and said it fit me.

Now that detail right there stayed with me the most.

Because if you pay attention to life long enough you start noticing something about people.

Everybody in this world carries a scent.

Now I do not mean the kind that comes from a bottle.

I mean the kind that comes from who they are.

Some people walk into a room and leave kindness behind them like the smell of fresh bread drifting through a kitchen.

Some people leave bitterness in the air the way smoke hangs after a fire.

And some people carry something rare.

Something that cannot be bought or copied.

Something that belongs only to them.

That dream sat with me for a while.

And the more I thought about it the more it reminded me of an old story I once heard from an elder who used to sit outside a small barbershop telling stories to anybody patient enough to listen.

Now if you ever spent time around an old barbershop in the city you know that place is half haircut business and half storytelling academy.

Men come in for a trim and leave with history.

This elder used to say there was once a young man who lived near the river many years ago.

Not a bad young man.

Just restless.

Always chasing something bigger than where he was standing.

Opportunity.

Recognition.

Success.

All the things people talk about when they say they are trying to make something of themselves.

One day the young man heard about a great marketplace across the water.

A place filled with merchants selling rare treasures.

Clothes from distant lands.

Jewelry made by skilled hands.

Books filled with knowledge.

Every path in life sitting there waiting to be chosen.

So the young man packed a small bag and crossed the river determined to find something that would make him important.

The marketplace was enormous.

Rows and rows of stalls stretching farther than he could count.

Every merchant calling out to him.

Young man come see what I have.

Young man this will change your life.

Young man this right here is the future.

So he walked through that marketplace day after day.

Trying one path.

Then another.

Buying this.

Selling that.

Listening to promises.

Chasing opportunity.

But the strange thing was the more he explored the more confused he became.

Every choice led to another hallway of choices.

Every opportunity opened another door.

After a while the young man realized he had been walking in circles for months.

Tired and frustrated he finally sat down near the edge of the market beside an old woman selling small glass bottles.

She had been sitting there quietly the entire time watching people come and go.

The young man sighed and rubbed his face.

I came here looking for something that would make my life better he said.

But now I cannot even find my way back home.

The old woman looked at him kindly.

Then she picked up a small bottle from her table.

Inside the bottle was a golden liquid glowing softly in the sunlight.

What is that the young man asked.

The old woman smiled.

Your scent she said.

The young man laughed.

Lady I already know what I smell like.

She shook her head slowly.

No.

You know what soap you use.

You know what oil you wear.

But you do not know your true scent.

The young man frowned.

What are you talking about.

She handed him the bottle.

This fragrance belongs only to you.

It has been yours since the day you were born.

The young man sniffed the bottle.

At first he did not understand.

Then slowly his eyes widened.

Because the scent felt familiar.

Not like something he bought.

More like something he had always carried without noticing.

What does it mean he asked.

The old woman leaned back in her chair.

It means the thing you been looking for in all these stalls was already walking with you.

The young man sat there quiet for a long time.

Then he asked the question that had been burning in his mind.

If I already had it why did nobody tell me.

The old woman laughed softly.

Because people spend most of their life trying to smell like somebody else.

So they forget to recognize their own scent.

Then she pointed toward the river.

Go home she said.

Your path is not in this marketplace.

It never was.

Now that story came back to me strong after that dream.

Because standing in that mall with nine hundred stores felt exactly like that marketplace.

So many choices.

So many voices saying this is the path.

This right here is success.

Walk this way.

But every door I opened only made the maze bigger.

Until I finally admitted something simple.

I was lost.

And sometimes being lost is not about geography.

Sometimes it is about direction.

You can be surrounded by opportunity and still not be standing in the place meant for you.

You can climb elevator after elevator thinking you moving up while actually drifting sideways.

You can chase doors that look promising until one day you realize you walked miles away from the place your spirit was meant to stand.

That is why my mother words in that dream hit me so hard.

Every opportunity that looks good is not meant for you.

Now listen carefully to that sentence.

Because the world today will tell you the opposite.

The world will say chase everything.

Try everything.

Grab every door before somebody else takes it.

But wisdom says something different.

Wisdom says every path carries a destination.

And not every destination belongs to you.

That dream reminded me of something else too.

Something about home.

Because when people hear the word home they think about buildings.

Addresses.

Street names.

But home is not always a place.

Sometimes home is alignment.

Sometimes home is the moment when who you are finally matches the road you walking on.

And that is why the dream did not end with me wandering forever.

It ended with someone recognizing the scent I was carrying.

And saying come on.

Let us get you home.

Now think about that for a moment.

The woman in emerald green did not guide me by asking for directions.

She recognized my scent.

She recognized something about me.

And once she recognized it she knew exactly where I belonged.

That right there might be the deepest part of the whole dream.

Because sometimes the way home is not about finding a map.

Sometimes the way home is about finally recognizing who you are.

And once that recognition happens

the road appears.

Just like that.

And that is when it hit me full force.

I had been looking for the grandest door, the shiniest opportunity, the loudest applause, when all along the thing meant for me had been walking beside me, wrapped up inside of me, waiting for me to stop running and finally recognize it.

Life will try to dress up opportunity in all kinds of glitter and noise.

It will put bright lights in front of your eyes, play music in your ears, whisper promises of big payoffs and recognition.

But sometimes the real magic is quiet.

Soft.

Waiting for you to notice it.

Just like that perfume.

No advertisement.

No crowd of people telling you it is the best.

Just there.

Telling you, hey, this belongs to you. Own it. Stand in it. Stop doubting it.

And sometimes the funny thing about life is it will make you scream, stomp your feet, and roll your eyes at it before you finally pay attention. That is human nature. We are stubborn creatures. Especially us from the city, where pride runs thick and patience runs thin.

Now listen, that emerald green woman? She didn’t fuss. She didn’t scold me. She didn’t make me kneel and apologize for being lost. She saw the scent, saw the journey, and she took my hand. Just like that. And the world disappeared with her touch.

And I realized that is exactly how guidance works in life. It does not always shout. It does not always march in front of you with banners. Sometimes guidance is quiet, patient, and persistent. Sometimes it waits for you to admit that you don’t know what you are doing, and when you finally do, it will take you by the hand and carry you home, whether you feel ready or not.

And home in this sense? Home ain’t just a street or a house. Home is alignment. It is when your purpose and your path finally shake hands. It is when your heart stops panicking, your mind stops racing, and your spirit leans back and says, alright, I see you, I understand you, we’re good now. That right there is home. That is the real destination that matters.

Life is full of malls with nine hundred stores. Elevators that open to unexpected floors. Perfume women with smiles like dawn. Winding roads with no street signs. Mothers who whisper truth when you are ready to hear it. Emerald green guides who appear exactly when you need them. And if you don’t pay attention, if you are too busy chasing noise and clamor, you will miss your own fragrance. You will miss your own path. You will miss home.

But if you pause. If you breathe. If you trust just a little. You will recognize it. And then everything falls into place, not because the world bends for you, but because you finally bend toward your own truth. And that is the greatest kind of magic there is.

Now I am telling you all this because I know a lot of us, myself included, spend time lost. Chasing doors that lead nowhere. Pretending to be someone we ain’t. Following noise and bright lights and promises that don’t belong to us. And there is nothing wrong with ambition. Nothing wrong with striving. But do not miss your own fragrance in the process. Do not miss your own soul. That is priceless, and nobody can give it to you, and nobody can take it from you if you claim it for yourself.

So the next time you feel lost in a mall of nine hundred stores, stuck on an elevator that won’t take you where you want to go, or wandering a road with no signs, remember this. Pause. Look for your scent. Listen for the quiet whispers. Recognize your own path. Somebody somewhere may just be standing in emerald green ready to take your hand. And when they do, do not resist. Let yourself be carried home.

Author’s Closing Words

I hope you felt this story. I hope you smelled the fragrance I was carrying. I hope you paused with me in the quiet winding roads. If anything in these words moves you, touches you, makes your heart stop and start again, I ask you this. Share it. Spread it. Talk about it with someone who needs to hear it. And if you feel called to, please support my work, my blog, my writings in any way that brings goodness to both of us. Your support is what keeps these stories alive, what keeps the scent moving, and what allows the next wandering soul to find their way home. Thank you for listening, for feeling, and for walking with me just a little while on this path.

Written with heart, soul, and a little mischief

Kāteb Shunnar

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Acbd5Y_i7tU

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