I had another bizarre-o dream last night.
Last night I dreamt about Justin and Liz. Justin was my best friend in my early 20's into my 30's. We were the best of friends. He was the first person to get me stoned, the first person to get me drunk, the first person to introduce me to any sort of music other than bible thumper music such as Sandi Patti, Petra or Michael W. Smith (why I can recall these names after so many years is beyond me). If I can single handedly tell you who the biggest influence has ever been in my life, it would be Justin. Liz is his Mom.
Justin and I were associated as being together by many, many friends. We were together ALL the time. I had a car and drove us everywhere. We went everywhere. We were not together in the couple sense of the word, though. Neither of us really had any "relationships" going on back then. We never kissed. We never fooled around. We did, however, cuddle a lot and hang out, listening to records. Yes, records.
Liz was the cool mom that everyone wished they had. We did not realize back then how insanely crazy she really was, and why Justin lived with his grandmother. The Norwell house his grandmother owned was my second home. I was there almost as much as I was at my parent's house, except to sleep. It was a very, very old home near the center of town; walking distance by a block or two. We didn't really have blocks in Norwell. Long assed windy back country roads, even for the main ones, with the exception of Main Street, which was a major route from a highway exit over to Scituate, MA. Norwell Center was on Main Street and I always used to joke that if you blinked your eyes you would miss it. It was that small. And Liz is not insanely crazy in a good way. This is a woman now who hides her prescriptions all over her cottage in Marshfield so "people" (she never has anyone over, I think I was the last person who visited two summers ago) don't find them. She had a steady rx for klonopin and the last time I was there, she would pull them out of hiding places such as the hems of curtains and inside chair cushions and offer them to me. She cried in her sleep for her Daddy, who abused her so badly when she was a kid but died when she was in her late teens not soon after she had Justin.
Justin's uncle and Liz' brother Peter recently passed away last week. It's so hard. He lived at the Norwell house after his divorce from Jennie and Josh's mom for quite some time. I don't know if he lived there after Pauline (Justin's grandmother) died. I lost touch with them by the time that had happened.
So, on to my dream.
Initially, I am in a strange (to me) location. I am cleaning for a company but rather vagrant-like. It seemed like I had a fairly steady supply of clothing with me, and needed to transport it. The company was not the company I was working for last week, but a different one.
Hmm. I am now recalling that Mark Boulos made a short but naked guest appearance in my dream....dancing on a front lawn with me watching him and someone else (a male but Mark is very definitely not gay-he is a free spirit. If there was definition of free spirit in a dictionary, his picture would be next to the definition).
There were a few truckers with big rigs there, but none that I knew by face. I felt comfortable with them and their rigs. I was to travel to the next cleaning job with them, and put my things in one of their cabs. I remember talking to this trucker, he had beautiful teeth he was quite proud of and was handy as well. He was sanding something down and repairing something on his truck, though I couldn't tell you what.
I turn around to talk to someone, and this trucker disappears with my things. His cab and everything are gone like they did not exist.
I turn back to go with him and realize he is gone.
The person I had been speaking with promises me (I don't recall if they were male or female) that they know where he is going and will get my clothing to me quickly.
Next thing I realize, I am at an apartment complex. It is not one I recognize, either.
However, I am at the office with a vacuum cleaner in hand. I then see Justin coming out of his apartment he is sharing with his mom (I can see her sitting in a chair by the window and she is crying her eyes out) and getting ready to walk his dog, which is a beagle named Cooper.
He is not paying attention to ANYTHING. I run from the office area hoping (for some reason) he doesn't see me. I run around the next block of buildings, only to see him cross the street at the end with Cooper. He is whistling and not paying any attention even though I am just feet from him, just hoping he does not see me. I don't know why I don't want him to see me.
Next thing I know, I am knocking on his apartment door with a vacuum cleaner in hand. Apparently I am to clean their place for the company I was working for.
Liz doesn't notice who I am and smiles. She tells me to do what I need to do. Justin comes home and sees me.
I don't recall the initial reaction after seeing me all these years and me struggling to hide from him, but the next thing I know we're sleeping in bed together. Not having sex, but cuddling. And being very close.
along comes a cat who glares at me for taking her place in his bed.
He makes a comment in my dream in a conversation we are having, something akin to "If....(insert mumbly sentence here) hadn't happened, we'd probably be married by now."
I don't get it.
On a side note: the last time I was back east, I stayed with Justin and Liz at their cottage down in Marshfield, which I ironically helped Liz find some 20 years ago. She has lived there since, and Justin stays there from time to time when he needs financial help or Liz is having an especially rough time. He was not working at that point.
I stayed in Liz' room with her in her bed. It was a little bizarre. Justin's room was supposed to look like noone was living there, because of the housing assistance Liz gets. He had boxes piled up on the side of his bed he did not sleep on. There was only supposed to be Liz in the cottage.
We had a great visit, we had reunited on FB after 15 years or so of having lost touch and I was hanging with him for the first time in years. I missed him, missed the tight friendship we had.
The last time I talked to him was when I was on my way back to Seattle after the trip ended.
He unfriended me shortly after. Liz has not, nor have his cousins.
I wish I knew what happened, but he won't talk to me now. He just won't. We didn't have an argument, we didn't have any weird situations, it just ended.
I don't get it.
And I am tired of weird dreams.
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