Creepin’ Up On You

Last night, I dreamed that I met Lewis from Unbox Therapy. It was at a convention, or maybe we were in his new studio but around a lot of people and tables and such, because it was inside of a large, open room. I don’t remember what I said to him now, I just remember that he got away from me and I received a note from him that was given to me by someone else. The note was written in Elizabethan, like it was from someone who was in a Renaissance Faire. The message was very clearly saying that I was being creepy, and that’s why he distanced himself from me.

When I woke up, I couldn’t believe that someone like him would even send along a message in anything other than plain English, that was my first thought. Secondly, he lives in Canada, and I’m not getting a passport to properly stalk him because that would be stupid. And finally, I was in disbelief that I was considered to be creepy, but then again I think we all have our moments.

Friday night, I went out for karaoke and met up with a cousin of mine. She recently lost her mom, and as she had already lost her father years before my dad passed, we were in the same boat in regards to grieving. Although she was her normal self on the outside, I did have to ask how she was holding up on the inside. The whole time I was at the karaoke club, she was holding up rather well, and she especially held her alcohol.

I left the place sometime after midnight, because I didn’t have a key to get back into the house where I’m staying, I didn’t want to keep anyone up too late while waiting for me, and I was likely to be woken up early the next morning by young boys who forget that they should be quiet when someone is sleeping.

The nest morning, I woke up to two young boys who wanted to play Xbox downstairs where I was sleeping, because their Xbox One upstairs has two controllers needing to be recharged, plus one of the user accounts is locked out and needs a password. I turned the volume down while they played, but turned off the television when they were consistently being loud. They weren’t playing fair with each other, and I wasn’t going to tolerate it.

It was a morning for coffee, that was certain. I felt like I was a splitting headache short of a hangover, which would be pathetic if the one alcoholic drink I had all evening had that much of an effect on my system.

As the day carried on, I learned that someone was carried out. While I was still at the karaoke bar, a guy came up to my cousin and was totally getting hands-on with her waist every so often. He had a disgustingly annoying laugh, and all I could imagine was his laugh coming from a mound of sludge, an image which didn’t repulse me any less than being in his presence. He was slightly taller than me, with pale skin and dark hair covered by a baseball hat. I felt like he worked a blue collar job like construction or maybe in a junk yard or something similar, because it didn’t seem like his element was an office environment at all.

I said to my cousin’s friend that I found him to be creepy, and she agreed. Neither of us knew who he was, and didn’t know if my cousin knew him either. He bought drinks for us; my cousin had another beer, her friend had another shot of Fireball, and I had my second ginger ale for the night. When her friend questioned me about my choice, I told her that there was no alcohol so I was safe to drive home, and no caffeine so I could get to sleep once I got there.

I don’t know how many rounds he bought, but I’m guessing he felt like he was owed something. He apparently tried to separate my cousin from the bar and from her friend. I don’t know how much things escalated, but the bouncer removed the guy from the bar from what I was told. I wish I was there to see everything unfold, but I did need to sleep eventually and that would have kept me up much later, not to mention the adrenaline I’d have to come down from if I was actually there.

Perhaps life runs at a necessary pace, that is to say, sometimes you’re meant to be at a specific location and other times you’re meant to leave. I was there to see the guy and know he was creepy, but I didn’t need to be there as the night wore on. My cousin’s friend needed to be there to protect her because I couldn’t.

And maybe I needed to have that dream to become aware that I might even be seen as being creepy to some. So I was thinking, I should write to Lewis and tell him that I had that dream, that it meant a lot to me. That certainly wouldn’t be a creepy thing to do at all (but I am certainly being sarcastic and not serious about it).

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