In this dream, I had heard of a man in Livingston who made saddles, headstalls, and other such leather horse
harness gear. This man, was supposed to have a pattern, or perhaps and original item of authentic Civil War
era cavalry gear that I had never seen, and I wanted to meet this gentleman and look at his harness items.
In the dream, Trevor was grown, as he is now, and we drove the Purple People Eater up to Livingston to find
this old man at the Overton County Fair. Note: the Purple People Eater was my pet name for my old 1984
Mercedes 300 SD. We arrived at the Overton County Fair, and there was a great amount of construction going on
around Livingston. I thought it looked like a boom town kinda like Charlotte NC. We got out and began to walk
thru the fair. There were places where you had to walk thru construction areas to get to other parts of the
fair, and it went on like this for miles. Trevor found something he was interested in and he told me to go on
without him. I walked on for miles thru fairgrounds and construction areas, until I finally found the old
man. He had a little stand set up, where he was displaying his saddles, and other such horse gear. The item
that I was looking for turned out to be a small strap that connected the front girt to the back girt, as on
a western saddle. This was a farby item, in other words, it was historically incorrect, since Civil War era
cavalry saddles were center rigged and did not require such a strap. Disappointed, I turned away and started
back on the long walk to find Trevor. When I finally arrived, Trevor was gone, and so was the Purple People
Eater. I was very distressed about this, and began to search everywhere for Trev finally resorting to calling
out his name as loudly as I could as I walked thru the fair. I searched, and called all night. Finally our
family arrived, and I spoke with them, explaining what had happened. I was so upset about Trevor’s
disappearance that I refused to come home, and instead, searched day and night. My searching went on for days,
weeks, and even years. My clothes became tattered, and my hair and beard grew long and grey. I looked like an
and old homeless beggar, and still I searched for mye beloved Trevor. Even more time passed the Overton County
Fair fell down, and the Town of Livingston Tennessee disappeared. Still, I searched. It seemed like I had been
searching forever, but on I went, walking, searching, and calling for mye son. Then I realized that I had been
dead for many, many years, and my ghost had been continuing the search after my death. **end of dream**
Our friend, Becky Grisson, was visiting with us, and interpreted this dream (correctly, I think) She said that
I was
grieving over my son. Trevor was home from Cheyenne, Wyoming last week for a visit. As we expected, he decided
that he was coming out of the USAF after his six year hitch. I had hoped that he would return to Tennessee, or
at least to the Southeast to finish up his college but Trevor said that he would stay in Colorado and go to
school at UC in Fort Collins. Trevor has a new girlfriend, who he is very serious about, and we expect that they
will be married at some point. Her name is Kristi, and she is a very nice young lady with a good head on her
shoulders She is a native of Colorado, and we all love her. Trevor indicated that he would not be coming back to
Tennessee. Although I was somewhat disappointed at this, I must say that it was not totally unexpected. Kristi
may have had some influence on this decision, but I couldn’t hold her at fault In fact, I feel this is a
perfectly natural change in Trevor’s decision making. If he is to have a life with Kristi, then they should
think about, and make these kinds of decisions together. I am happy for both of them. I must accept that my son
is a man he can, and will, make his own way through life. Some invisible attachment in mye heart is being broken.
Trevor will always be my son, and mye love is unchanging, but he will never again be my little boy.
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