The White House


In my dream I knew I would write about the white thing when I woke up…

White… something intangible, in the distance, in my dream. This morning I show up here for my date with the blank page, and I know that as I write it will come to me.

I think about my faith in this process of allowing things to come. Far off in the distance, and deep in my consciousness, it is there… I can feel it… waiting.

It is there because of positive energies that are already activated. But it is also a sign of things to come – a radiantly happy and abundant existence that is my wildest dream. There is a slight haze as I look far off through the pretty hillsides from our back verandah.

And there it is: my white house, shimmering with the accumulated energies of fortuitous futures colliding.

Last week, in real life, I finally found where the white house is situated. It cannot be seen from any road. I’d been past it many times – even passing it by whilst actively looking for it!


I’ve had a fantasy about a house before. “Khandala”; the magnificent, if shabby, residence sprawled along the cliffs at Echo Point. It was easy to believe it would one day be ours when we breakfasted on it’s balcony every sunny morning and picnicked on the croquet lawn with Anne, Julien, Tahmour and Kate every other fine weekend.

When I think back on the hundreds and thousands of hours of memories accumulated there over those four years, I realise that the other-worldly, deserted mansion and it’s seven acres of fantasy gardens, lawns and bush shared with our adjoining cottage were, in fact, mine.

Now another house has made itself known to me. The white house on the hill. One day, the best version of myself will live there. I will sometimes share my private and secluded world with one of the Significant Others in my life.

My house is a place for healing, for rejuvenation and regeneration. It exists under a shroud of tranquility, impermeable to the outside world. Rather like the delightful cottage on the opposite hill where I now live, this place is an extension of my self. It exists outside of troubled times, and independently of the fast-paced hustle and bustle that some are so caught up in.

When you enter my house, you enter my world. You breathe in, you breathe out. You begin to let go of things that don’t really matter. You allow the things that really do matter to well up inside you, warming your heart and spreading a smile over your face.

In my house it’s easy to forget about all those things that don’t really matter. And to feel your true essence – you are a being of love: you love and you are loved. And that’s all that matters.


Let me paint you a picture of my house: It sits in the patchwork green on the opposite side of the valley to this house where I now live.

It waits. My future and it’s future are connected. I can feel that already, though I don’t know the details yet. I haven’t been in my house from this particular vantage point in linear time, but I know I will.

There is a nexus between the best version of myself and the white house. I won’t be contained by my present circumstances any more. I will spill out into greater ways of being. My good fortune will overflow into the lives of those I love the most.

It’s not that my white house is a house of affluence; far from it. It is a humble, quaint country cottage. It faces squarely east and soaks up all of the morning and midday sunshine every single day. It may be in full sun, and in full view from this side of the valley, but my house is secluded.

A rustic letterbox on a little-used dirt road was not clue enough for me to discover the location of my dream house. It has no driveway, just a barely penetrable cliff face of mountain ferns and ivy.

When the turning stars are aligned and my intuition is synchronised to the wider motions of world and mind, I will push through the green, tangled curtains of leaf and vine to find the hidden access up to the shimmering structure. Cogs will turn and events will play out as planned.

I will have reached the moment when I fully realise, to the very depths of my being, that everything is ok… Everything is as it should be.

Do I not know that now?

The future is within me now, and my purpose is to embody it. My white house, just across the valley there, is showing me how to get home.

The White House


Katoomba, Australia

  • Artist

Artist's Description

Last week I finally found, in physical terms, something that has been tickling at my imagination all year.

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