I used the money I had earned with the Afro-American to make this exploration down the coast, and when I got to Daytona I had only one dollar and a half left in cash.
I got a little rented house…I couldn’t pay the rent. The house belonged to a Negro man named John Williams, he rented the house to me for eleven dollars a month. I told him I had no money—but he said he would trust me.
I had no furniture. I begged dry goods boxes and made benches and stools; begged a basin and other things I needed and in 1904 five little girls here started school.
(Do you remember the names of those first five girls and where are they now?)
Before starting school I had three significant dreams—you see I still believe in dreams.
The first was: I was standing on the bank of the St. John River and had to cross that river but seemingly there was no way for me to get over. And as I stood pondering that stream, and that I must go over, I looked back of me and there was a great army of young people, all coming towards me.
And then someone came up to me and said, “You are planning to cross this river, but before you cross it you must take this book,” and handed me a book, “and register the names of all those young people that you see there in the distance.”
I was ill and when I had that dream and a friend came in to see me and I told him about the dream he said to me, “I’ll be the Joseph and interpreter of your dream. That means that you are to build a great work for young people and that many years will be spared you yet to lead them on.”
My second dream was: I was again on the bank of the St. John River and was making another attempt to cross that river and my mother and father were both alive then and the president of dear old Scotia, Dr. Satterfield, who was president during my stay there.
