The dream. (Thurs-Fri, October 27-28)

I don't normally have dreams, and if I do they hardly ever are vivid or important enough for me to write them down. But I had a dream last week that shook me.
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My father and brother and I were walking west down Wardlow Avenue, towards the freeway, maybe in the morning--the time we usually eat breakfast together every other week, I suppose. (There's been repaving going on recently on Wardlow, so I'll attribute that to my dream's immediate prevalence.) The sidewalk was being repaired, but nobody was working on them, so my father and Calvin and I kept walking, ducking under the yellow caution tape. Weaving around the orange cones that lined the sidewalk, we came to the first intersection, which I actually can't remember. Lewis? Lemon? Anyways, there was a plastic barricade set up perpendicular to our path, which doesn't make any sense, since barricades that block streets run parallel to sidewalks. This barricade dissected the two lanes of this intersection. So, logically, instead of going around the barricade, all three of us decide to hurdle it. But I stopped, before I jumped, and noticed a paper note flapping in the breeze, taped to this dividing wall. It read simply:

He who would claim the prize
MUST wash his weary eyes


And then I woke up.
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At first, with vivid dreams like these, I try desperately to fall back to sleep to continue the dream (and sometimes it works!), but with this one, I felt urged to write these details down. Let's speculate as to the interpretation of this dream!