Sleep Dream. I’m at a Denver Latvian gathering. Like a party, lots of people. I’m a curiosity-filled outsider. Not angst-ridden about not fitting in, but fully realizing that I’m not part of this crowd. It seems that the party is taking place at 623 Elati. It appears that Varimants has bought the house. Randy J. makes eye contact with me and walks up. He is extremely friendly and effusive. His eyes sparkle. I realize that his hair has no gray, that it is a darker shade of reddish brown than I remember. “It is SO good to see you, after all these years!” he says. I’m very surprised at his friendliness. Instead of shaking hands, he reaches over and touches (my arm?) in a very intimate fashion. He seems totally sincere. I’m puzzled, for he never seemed, in the past, to much care for me.
I see Varimants, who looks much as he did when I saw him in December, but not so haggard, He’s happy and proud to have bought my old house. I have no idea why he did this, what it means to him. I decide to walk around the property. I tell myself to be prepared for changes, and it’s OK.
I’m in the back yard. Along Mauro’s property (now Lizzie’s) the fence has a 4-foot high concrete foundation that stair-steps up to 6 feet in height. The wood privacy fence sits on top, at a level that is 8 or 9 feet high. “Hm,” I think, “Varimants wants more privacy from Lizzie.”
The wood privacy fence on Hans’ side is gone. It’s odd to me, to have built such a fence on Mauro’s side, only to expose all the junk in the Horst house yard.
I go look at the back of Lizzie’s garage. Widths of wood siding have come off here and there from the walls, white insulating plastic tatters hang down. Same on the front of the garage. Her back yard is not taken care of. “She seems to have given up,” I ponder. “Too bad.”
I then notice that 623 has an addition in back, quite large. Varimants built it so that each of the 3 boys could have a room of his own. I don’t want to see the boys, but I do want to see the rooms. The addition is a separate edifice, with an outside door facing east. I enter and am in a hallway onto which 3 doors open. I find it sweet that Varimants built such a structure for his sons, that he is providing for them in such a non-standard way.
Ilmārs’ head pops out of his doorway. He looks at me, but says nothing. He doesn’t want interaction, just as I don’t either. “So, they know I’m here,” I think. “Therefore I don’t have to be secretive.” I look into each room. Kristaps is sitting on his bed reading. He looks up, but says nothing. I don’t recall if Uģis is in his room. Ilmārs is in the doorway to his. No one talks. It feels neutral.