ON FINALLY FINDING — That Which You Spent Your Entire Life Searching For.

Reflection from July 23rd, 2012 @ Age 31


I had a dream last night about Dave…sort of.  I can’t remember real well as I awoke from it four hours ago and just remembered now that I had wanted to jot it down.

Mostly all I remember was that I was with someone, a female friend, and among other things we went to the reverend’s house; the reverend who had buried Dave or something—he was somehow connected.  Anyways, his house was open, door unlocked, so we walked right in off the sidewalk of this nice neighborhood—kind of like that house Danny lived in at Coventry where I wrote in my first journal entry post-July 6th, 2006 (i.e. Dave’s death).  Anyway, we just walked right on in, no knockin’ or nothin’, and found our way into this chest where there were little cards—just front faced, no flaps, maybe 2×3 pieces of cardboard paper.  Kind of, maybe a little thinner and they listed all the people at the funeral I think, or I mean there was a card for each person.  And I can’t remember much after that except the envelope was there for mine—had my name on it, but the card was missing.  All the other cards were there—hundreds of them, but mine was missing.

But then on the other side of the chest (it was like a big dresser chest—like an armoire, kind of) on the other side to the right, there were antique trinkets or the like and there was a big card with no name on it.  And when I pulled that card out (it was a full size card with a flap) it was written to me and I think it was written by Dave—but I couldn’t be sure and cannot remember clearly what I saw, except it was definitely handwriting and I definitely think I thought it was written to me from/by Dave.  And it was a legit letter written to—like a note, written to me in his care, with many sentences and cohesive thought, but I just knew that I hadn’t read it before.  And then I woke up and Adam was getting up to take his transplant meds and I was slightly confused and not sure if I was talking in my sleep.

Except no—now that I think of it, I saw the letter etc. (as above) then we left the house in a hurry and I didn’t bring the letter with me and we were out on the sidewalk and I wanted to run back inside to get that damn letter and bring it home with me to keep, but the guy—the reverend or whatever got home and we had to turn immediately around and start walking quickly away because he saw us but didn’t know (yet) that we’d been inside his house.  And I woke up and that was it.


No Dave, he wasn’t there.  I wanted him so badly—to find him, but I know he isn’t here.  Made me sad.

I drove past his house in North Canton yesterday when we were still there—early I went out for Starbucks at 6am by myself while all else still slept, and I got my coffee and drove down Whipple, Main, Woodrush turn 6 stop signs and the 7th was a go.  But he was not there and never again will be.  Makes me so fucking sad all over again.


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