Dear Travis,

February 10, 2011

It’s been awhile since I’ve thought of you. Years. Almost a decade probably. Your absence in my life left a tiny void that nobody ever fills. One I didn’t even notice until the other day. You played such an interesting role in the Natalie show.

I tried emailing you about 5 years ago but your account had been shut down. I actually tried to look you up once. I’m a pretty good internet stalker and I never found you. Not a trace. There’s a chiropractor with your name from near where you’re from but I’m pretty sure he’s not you. The face isn’t the same. But it’s been years since I’ve seen you so I can only imagine what you look like now. You probably cut you hair. I’ll probably hate it.

I’m writing this because I dreamt about you the other night and I’m not sure what it means. In Natalie Fantasy Land, you had the same dream and we were just reuniting on some other dimension. it was too real not to have you have thought of me wherever you are and had some sort of brain-to-brain connection. It shook me a little bit, obviously, but what was weirdest was that it looked like you, but not like you when we were kids, but as we would be now. How I would expect you to look in your mid-twenties. It was you though, definitely you.

The dream went like this: I was in Washington DC with my friends Lesley and Nora, whom you’ve never met and probably have never even heard your name, and we were going to some sort of special speech (nope, it wasn’t Obama, but for some reason, I’m guessing you attempted to go to his inauguration). Long story short, there was an alien invasion. Yep, they were even green. They looked like people, but totally green. Think Tobias Funke when he’s auditioning for blue man group. Anywho, they were dangerous. Like their presence was definitely not good, so Lesley and Nora and I speed walked (not sure why we weren’t running) away from the site, as most people did. They weren’t immediately hostile, but I guess they were just holding down the fort and keeping people out of it. Probably holding someone hostage. Who knows. Point being, the next thing I know I’m at a fruit stand with Lesley and Nora and I think Nora’s mom (who I haven’t seen since I was about 16) and I’m eating watermellon on a stick. Except it doesn’t look like watermellon on a stick. It looks like butternut squash on a stick. Wrap your head around that one. Whatever. I’m standing there eating my watermellon on a stick during an alien invasion and I see you walk past me with a friend. I knew it was you. I didn’t even really see your face, but I caught you double take at me and I knew it was you. I yelled your name, and after you took a few more steps you turned around and recognized me. I don’t think I’ve hugged anyone for so long and so hard as I did you in that dream. It was so real. So odd. I told Nora and Lesley and Nora’s mom I’d be back in a minute and I walked over to meet your friends. Oddly enough you didn’t introduce me, but we could hardly talk as we were just so shocked to see each other. We were just so happy to see each other I don’t even think we really said much. You were in DC just for the day to see whatever speech thing we were originally attending, and I told you there’d been an alien invasion and it wasn’t safe, but you didn’t seem to care (typical) and insisted we go over there anyway. I walked down there, and immediately it was obvious that shit was going down with these aliens. Nobody was around, in fact people were now running. Some of your friends had already high-tailed it outta there, and I grabbed you by the arm and we ran. You kept looking back in shock, but there was nothing to see but the little green men behind us. It was probably shock. I don’t really blame you. We ran back to the fruit cart, but it was gone, as were Nora and Lesley and Nora’s mom. At first I was mad they left and then I realized I had left them so whatever fair game. You told me things would be okay and I believed you. You asked me where the fruit cart had gone.

Then I woke up.

Travis, there are very few things I look back on from my childhood and have found there is no stain from sadness. You are one of those things. You and Canoe, and a handful of other ditties that I don’t really need to get into because a) nobody is reading this, b) you aren’t reading this, and c) if you were reading this I wouldn’t even be talking about this. I would be sucking the life out of every second wanting to hear about your fantastic life and how you don’t drink Komodo Dragon coffee anymore and how you don’t drink coffee anymore because of that year you spent in the Himalayas with some monks. Or you don’t drink coffee cause of the one time you spilled it all over your most important expense report and you were so scarred by the experience you never want to do it again. I don’t know. I really don’t. You had so much potential you could have been anything, or for all I knew, you grew up and threw it all away, kind of like I did. I don’t know why I’m writing this, why I’m sharing this, or if I could even speak to you if this is what I talk about, but know this: thanks for bringing a little glimmer of light back. Your presence reminded me that maybe there is a bit of purity left. I can’t decide whether I’m going to make hunting you down a new project, or if I’m just going to leave fate to cross paths again one day. I don’t even remember how we left things. How things happened or why they did. I just hope you’re well. Not just well. I hope you’re great. I hope you’re having the most amazing life, with or without me.



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