September 12th, 2025
by Hollywood Prayer Network
by Hollywood Prayer Network
The World is Waiting for You!
An Excerpt from Edwina Findley Dickerson
March 2015
Under the shimmering night sky, my husband, Kelvin, and I settled into the back of a sleek, black Suburban, dressed to the nines for an exciting night. Our driver navigated the busy streets with ease, weaving through crowds and barriers as we made our way into Hollywood. When we finally stopped at the bustling red carpet in front of the iconic Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, anticipation filled the air, and we couldn’t help but feel the pulsing energy of the moment.
I’d finally arrived at the premiere of my movie Get Hard with Kevin Hart and Will Ferrell. I starred as Kevin Hart’s wife in the film, and my publicist at the time, Shannon, insisted that I arrive at the event looking absolutely flawless.
The red carpet seemed to flow longer than the Nile River, and the parade of photographers, paparazzi, and media outlets appeared endless. Time stood still as I slowly stepped out of the Suburban and took in the bright lights, the enthusiastic fans, and the presence of fellow celebrities arriving for the premiere. The excitement was palpable, coursing through my veins. But amid the thrill, an unexpected sense of déjà vu suddenly washed over me. I was unable to shake the nagging feeling that somehow I had been here before.
I’d finally arrived at the premiere of my movie Get Hard with Kevin Hart and Will Ferrell. I starred as Kevin Hart’s wife in the film, and my publicist at the time, Shannon, insisted that I arrive at the event looking absolutely flawless.
The red carpet seemed to flow longer than the Nile River, and the parade of photographers, paparazzi, and media outlets appeared endless. Time stood still as I slowly stepped out of the Suburban and took in the bright lights, the enthusiastic fans, and the presence of fellow celebrities arriving for the premiere. The excitement was palpable, coursing through my veins. But amid the thrill, an unexpected sense of déjà vu suddenly washed over me. I was unable to shake the nagging feeling that somehow I had been here before.
March 2005
Ten years before the glitzy Hollywood premiere, I was living in low-income housing in New York City. I had recently graduated from drama school at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts and was what you might call a starving artist. I wasn’t literally wasting away, thank God, but my income was certainly dancing along the poverty line. Anyone who’s lived in New York City can attest that the daily escapades of the concrete jungle are not for the faint of heart. I’ve stopped knife fights, drug deals, and even an attempted murder. I endured the daily smells of urine and weed in the halls of my apartment building, I raced against rats for the last seat on the subway, and my life was threatened more than once.
I couldn’t afford a gym membership, so my version of leg day was running down the street for blocks and blocks so I wouldn’t miss the bus. The small apartment I shared with a roommate was a third-floor walk-up with no elevator, no air conditioning, and no washing machine. So you can imagine the adventurous struggles I faced on laundry and grocery days. I had a rickety black cart I used to haul my laundry and grocery bags down the stairs and through the streets for what felt like miles. Rain or shine, snow or sleet, you would see me and my trusty cart out there rolling away. But when it got too hot and sweaty inside that tiny, stuffy laundromat, or worse, if I ran out of quarters or detergent, I’d yank all of my clothes out of the washer, stuff everything into my cart, wheel the cart back down the street, and haul it up three flights of stairs.
I vividly recall one of my fateful trips to a Pathmark grocery store in Harlem. I scoured the aisles searching for discounts and was elated to stumble upon a supersale on canned vegetables. I did a victory dance right there in the discount section. I piled those cans higher and higher, giddy with excitement. After checking out, reality hit me like a ton of canned beans. I had forgotten my trusty black cart at home. How on earth was I going to haul my bargain treasures back to my apartment across town?
I’d have to walk, catch a train, take the bus, and walk some more.
I wobbled through the streets for blocks and blocks, clutching the heavy plastic bags filled with my discounted delights. My poor hands were begging for mercy as the plastic cut deeper and deeper into my hands. Every few minutes I stopped and put the bags down to muster the strength to continue my precarious journey.
Then, just when I thought I could see my way clear, the unthinkable happened. My shoe, my precious shoe, decided this was the perfect moment to break. I was wearing slide-on mules, and the whole top of my sandal completely separated from the bottom sole, leaving absolutely nothing to keep my sandal strapped onto my foot. So there I was, limping across a busy intersection like a madwoman, sliding the sole of my shoe along the pavement with the bottom of my foot, still struggling to balance the weight of all my bags. It was like a scene straight out of a slapstick comedy. I did everything to press through my embarrassment and JUST GET HOME.
You’d think the fates would allow me to make it back to my apartment in peace, without adding another hurdle to this nightmare. But no, that would be too easy. Instead, the plastic bags I’d held on to so tightly for over an hour broke, surrendering under the pressure of the canned goods, and they scattered in every direction, taunting me as they rolled out of sight. I was utterly devastated. In that moment, all I could do was stand in the middle of the street and cry. THIS CANNOT BE MY LIFE!
----
You see, faith has always been a big part of my life. I grew up in church, I attended a Christian school, and nearly everyone in my family operated in some form of ministry. When I was sixteen years old, I began experiencing supernatural encounters that my family and I didn’t know how to explain.
God began showing me vivid signs, visions, and revelations of things to come. I’d receive deep spiritual impressions and flashes into the future, and I was always shocked when I would see things unfold exactly the way God had shown me. I was raised in a spiritual household, but language like “prophecy” and “prophetic” was not part of my daily vernacular. I didn’t really have a way to identify or define what was happening to me. But God’s voice rang loudly in my spirit, and the messages became so clear that I’d know with absolute certainty that it was Him.
Over time, my supernatural encounters heightened to the point that strangers started approaching me in the most unexpected places: on bustling sidewalks, during late-night taxicab rides, and in nightclubs, hotels, public parks, and even nursing homes, prophesying what was to come next in my life. People I’d never met before would grab my hand and foretell major events that would soon take place. Like an eerie yellow brick road, these divine messages compelled me toward a future that, in the Spirit, had already manifested, but in the natural, required incredible faith. It became abundantly clear that the events of my life were not solely within my control; I had been called for a greater purpose.
-----
As you can imagine, each of these unexpected encounters left me speechless. It was as if God was unveiling a divine portal to an entirely new existence, shining a light on the abundance of possibilities that lay ahead. I began journaling incessantly, writing these words down, praying about them, dreaming about them, envisioning them, and hiding them inside my heart. In a few years, I filled over twenty-five journals with insights, prayers, and revelations. The prophetic words these strangers uttered uplifted and encouraged me, and made me feel that perhaps God hadn’t forgotten about me after all.
I must admit that, as inspiring as the prophecies were, sometimes they felt painful, too. In some ways I felt helpless because I had zero idea how or when any of these things would actually manifest. The huge chasm between the life I was living and these fanciful God Dreams felt overwhelming. I kept asking God to increase my faith and help me live to see the manifestation of all His promises. I asked for the Lord’s strength to persevere beyond my personal struggles, my professional rejections, my financial difficulties, and my feelings of loneliness. I asked God to help me see and believe the vision He had for my life and help me to stay encouraged long enough to prepare for it and run toward it.
And then, with one phone call, it looked like my whole life was about to change.
I had been auditioning like there was no tomorrow since graduating from college, passionately pursuing my “big break,” and after a long day of leading workshops in Harlem, a major television network called with an offer to fly me to Hollywood to screen- test for a lead role on a new television series. I could not contain my excitement. “Ahhh! This is it! The manifestation I’ve been waiting for!”
I couldn’t afford a gym membership, so my version of leg day was running down the street for blocks and blocks so I wouldn’t miss the bus. The small apartment I shared with a roommate was a third-floor walk-up with no elevator, no air conditioning, and no washing machine. So you can imagine the adventurous struggles I faced on laundry and grocery days. I had a rickety black cart I used to haul my laundry and grocery bags down the stairs and through the streets for what felt like miles. Rain or shine, snow or sleet, you would see me and my trusty cart out there rolling away. But when it got too hot and sweaty inside that tiny, stuffy laundromat, or worse, if I ran out of quarters or detergent, I’d yank all of my clothes out of the washer, stuff everything into my cart, wheel the cart back down the street, and haul it up three flights of stairs.
I vividly recall one of my fateful trips to a Pathmark grocery store in Harlem. I scoured the aisles searching for discounts and was elated to stumble upon a supersale on canned vegetables. I did a victory dance right there in the discount section. I piled those cans higher and higher, giddy with excitement. After checking out, reality hit me like a ton of canned beans. I had forgotten my trusty black cart at home. How on earth was I going to haul my bargain treasures back to my apartment across town?
I’d have to walk, catch a train, take the bus, and walk some more.
I wobbled through the streets for blocks and blocks, clutching the heavy plastic bags filled with my discounted delights. My poor hands were begging for mercy as the plastic cut deeper and deeper into my hands. Every few minutes I stopped and put the bags down to muster the strength to continue my precarious journey.
Then, just when I thought I could see my way clear, the unthinkable happened. My shoe, my precious shoe, decided this was the perfect moment to break. I was wearing slide-on mules, and the whole top of my sandal completely separated from the bottom sole, leaving absolutely nothing to keep my sandal strapped onto my foot. So there I was, limping across a busy intersection like a madwoman, sliding the sole of my shoe along the pavement with the bottom of my foot, still struggling to balance the weight of all my bags. It was like a scene straight out of a slapstick comedy. I did everything to press through my embarrassment and JUST GET HOME.
You’d think the fates would allow me to make it back to my apartment in peace, without adding another hurdle to this nightmare. But no, that would be too easy. Instead, the plastic bags I’d held on to so tightly for over an hour broke, surrendering under the pressure of the canned goods, and they scattered in every direction, taunting me as they rolled out of sight. I was utterly devastated. In that moment, all I could do was stand in the middle of the street and cry. THIS CANNOT BE MY LIFE!
----
You see, faith has always been a big part of my life. I grew up in church, I attended a Christian school, and nearly everyone in my family operated in some form of ministry. When I was sixteen years old, I began experiencing supernatural encounters that my family and I didn’t know how to explain.
God began showing me vivid signs, visions, and revelations of things to come. I’d receive deep spiritual impressions and flashes into the future, and I was always shocked when I would see things unfold exactly the way God had shown me. I was raised in a spiritual household, but language like “prophecy” and “prophetic” was not part of my daily vernacular. I didn’t really have a way to identify or define what was happening to me. But God’s voice rang loudly in my spirit, and the messages became so clear that I’d know with absolute certainty that it was Him.
Over time, my supernatural encounters heightened to the point that strangers started approaching me in the most unexpected places: on bustling sidewalks, during late-night taxicab rides, and in nightclubs, hotels, public parks, and even nursing homes, prophesying what was to come next in my life. People I’d never met before would grab my hand and foretell major events that would soon take place. Like an eerie yellow brick road, these divine messages compelled me toward a future that, in the Spirit, had already manifested, but in the natural, required incredible faith. It became abundantly clear that the events of my life were not solely within my control; I had been called for a greater purpose.
-----
As you can imagine, each of these unexpected encounters left me speechless. It was as if God was unveiling a divine portal to an entirely new existence, shining a light on the abundance of possibilities that lay ahead. I began journaling incessantly, writing these words down, praying about them, dreaming about them, envisioning them, and hiding them inside my heart. In a few years, I filled over twenty-five journals with insights, prayers, and revelations. The prophetic words these strangers uttered uplifted and encouraged me, and made me feel that perhaps God hadn’t forgotten about me after all.
I must admit that, as inspiring as the prophecies were, sometimes they felt painful, too. In some ways I felt helpless because I had zero idea how or when any of these things would actually manifest. The huge chasm between the life I was living and these fanciful God Dreams felt overwhelming. I kept asking God to increase my faith and help me live to see the manifestation of all His promises. I asked for the Lord’s strength to persevere beyond my personal struggles, my professional rejections, my financial difficulties, and my feelings of loneliness. I asked God to help me see and believe the vision He had for my life and help me to stay encouraged long enough to prepare for it and run toward it.
And then, with one phone call, it looked like my whole life was about to change.
I had been auditioning like there was no tomorrow since graduating from college, passionately pursuing my “big break,” and after a long day of leading workshops in Harlem, a major television network called with an offer to fly me to Hollywood to screen- test for a lead role on a new television series. I could not contain my excitement. “Ahhh! This is it! The manifestation I’ve been waiting for!”
Hear the rest of Edwina’s story and how to start pursuing your own God Dream in her new book, The World is Waiting for You!
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