Sign of the Times

STEVE CROWLEY, SHANE CURRY, CLINT THE COWBOY AND MY PREDICAMENT...

To dream is a dangerous thing...

I suppose I should go back ten years. Most of my remaining friends have never heard the full story of Steve Crowley and who he was and why he was important. In order to fully understand the events of this past weekend, you would need to know a little bit about Steve Crowley.

I first dreamed of Steve the winter that I was 16. There was a series of dreams that involved him. In one particular dream, I was walking down this long tree-lined residential street. There was someone with me, some kind of spirit guide. I was very upset, and my guide told me, "Don't worry Steve Crowley is real. This is where he lives." At that moment, I looked up and I saw a street sign. It said Stanley Ct. We walked on a few blocks or so and came to a single story house. A man was outside mowing the lawn. My guide told me, "This is where Steve lives. Now you know."

I woke up from this very vivid dream and I knew that it was set in Evansville, Indiana, a large city at the very bottom of the state. I had never been there before. I could have just blown this off...chalked it up to just some crazy dream. But there was something about it that I couldn't shake off. That afternoon, Beth and I drove down to the public library in Merrillville, Indiana and found a phone book for Evansville. We looked up Steve Crowley. There was no Steve Crowley, but there was an S. Crowley. But this person lived at 419 S. Harlan Ave. And we were looking for Stanley Court. My hopes fell, but Beth suggested that we look at a map of Evansville. I flipped to the front of the phone book, looked up S. Harlan Ave, and to my shock and surprise, I found that Stanley Ct. and S. Harlan Ave did, indeed, intersect. And when I thought back to the dream, when I looked up at the sign, it was for the cross street of the actual street we were walking on. If we were walking down S. Harlan Ave, we would cross Stanley Ct.
So, now what am I supposed to do with this? There was a series of other signs and signals that we received regarding this. I won't go into all of those now, but the point is this was a very major event in my life.

A few years later, we were still talking about this. One weekend I was down in Bloomington visiting Beth at IU. Saturday morning, we woke up and decided to drive down to Evansville. What the hell? Let's go drive down this street and see what it looks like. We did. And it looked almost exactly like it did in my dream. We decided to go back around the block and come down , S. Harlan again. I go to make a turn. We hear screeching tires and a car slams into the back of ours. Our car is spun around 180 degrees. No one was hurt that day, but we took it as a sign that we were not supposed to be there at that moment. And we left. We thought about Steve Crowley many more times after that. I kept thinking I'd meet him somewhere. At Purdue where I went to school for two years. Anywhere. Then I moved to Boston. I thought maybe he would be out there, but I never found him. Then I started dating Matt Walburn. I didn't completely forget about Steve, but I came to think of him as this idealized man. And anyone who didn't live up to this ideal, was simply no Steve Crowley. And I was searching for Steve Crowley. When Matt and I broke up and I decided to move out to L.A., I thought maybe I would find Steve out here. Either the ideal or maybe there was someone who actually had that name.

Then I met Clint. He knocked me right off of my feet. And he did have the physical description of Steve Crowley. We do believe that we've found Clint; he just hasn't gone into work in awhile and, therefore, hasn't gotten the letter that Beth gave his boss. It could happen any day. Maybe he is Steve Crowley. I'd like to think so.

But then there is also this...

I woke up on Saturday morning with nothing to do. Beth was out of town. I talked to Cutter for awhile on the phone. He said that it was raining in Boston. I told him it was sunny in L.A. Maybe I should go out and enjoy the day. In fact, maybe I should go drive around the streets of Van Nuys and North Hollywood for awhile. Just in case I should happen to run into Clint.

So, I decided to go down to The Black Broom (formally Raven's Flight), the pagan bookstore that Clint had told me about the night we met. I thought, "What if he's down there buying herbs or supplies or something? Who knows?" So, I drive down there and there is no parking on Vineland Ave (the street the store is on). I drive a few blocks down searching for parking and then turn down this little side street (S. Harsook Ave). I intend to go around the block and come back down Vineland, but about halfway down this street, I find a parking spot. This is a long tree-lined residential street. As I'm getting out of the car, I notice that across the street, there are a group of young guys with a black Mustang all jacked up and they're standing around it. They appear to be working on it. There is one tall, skinny guy with long hair to his chin and a baseball cap pulled down. Due to the distance and the baseball cap, I can't really see his face. But this could be Clint. What if it is? He's the one that told me about the store in the first place that's only a few blocks away. When I met Clint, his hair was several inches shorter, but that was four months ago. It could be longer now. I am freaking out. I get back in the car. I don't know what to do. Should I go up to these guys? I call Beth. Her voice mail picks up. I leave a frantic message about this. I then decide to walk down past their house. I am going to get the license plate of the car and the house address just in case I need them. I know, I am very crazy in this moment. I am walking past their house, away from the store at this point. They don't seem to notice me. I get the address: 10919 Harsook. I get the plate number. The Mustang is not from Tennessee. It's from Indiana? I still can't see the guy's face. And I don't want to keep staring. They still have not noticed me. I walk down to the end of the block and turn around. I guess I'm going to go to The Black Broom and decide what further action to take. On my way back up the block, I pass their house again (I am on the opposite side of the street both times). The Clint-looking guy looks up from the car and is staring at me as I walk past. Oh my god. What if this is Clint?

I walk up to Vineland Ave. I turn the corner. I go to put my cell phone in my purse. And realize...I do not have my keys. In all of my frantic confusion, I have locked them in the car. Fuck. What am I going to do? I have AAA. I could call them. Or...

I could go up to the guys and see if they could open the door for me. Afterall, they know how to fix cars.

I continue on to The Black Broom. I buy my supplies. I still have not decided what to do. If they are still there when I come back, should I go up to them? I have to, I decide. There is a reason for all of this. There are moments when you know there is a reason.

I walk back. They're all still out there. What the hell? Here I go...I walk up to the house. I'm not even half way across the street and the Clint-looking guy is staring at me. I yell across the street, "This is going to sound really stupid. I locked my keys in my car. And I see you guys out here working on cars. I was wondering if any of you knew how to open a locked car." Of all the guys standing out there (and there are about 5 or 6), it is the Clint-looking guy who walks up to me. I get close enough and see that it is not Clint. But he is cute. And he agrees to try and help me. He wants to look at the lock so we walk over to my car. "Are you guys from Indiana?" I ask. "I am," he replies. "So am I," I say. He asks me where and I tell him Valparaiso. He is from Brownsburg. I have never been there, but it is near Indianapolis. He moved out here about a year and a half ago because all of his friends had moved out here and wanted him to join them. He wanted to get out of Indiana. I know that feeling.

He went back up to the house to get something to try and open the car door. All he can find is a coat hanger. He starts to work on the car and we are chatting. "Were you at that Raven store?" he asks me. Strange. How would he know that? He works on it for about 20 minutes, but it's just not going to work. Mitsubishi locks are different than most locks. You can't just stick a coat hanger in and pull them up. He tells me to call AAA and at least get that started. I call them. He continues to work on the car. Finally, he gives up. AAA is coming in half an hour. "Well, what can I do for you? Do you want a Coke or something?" he asks me. He's so nice and cute. I cannot refuse. "Sure," I say. And we walk up to his house. "My name's Shane, by the way," he says. "I'm Debbie," I reply.

We go up to his house. He introduces me to his roommates (who are all also from various parts of the midwest). They are all very nice, and make me feel welcome in their house. So, I'm just sitting there hanging out, shooting the shit with these guys. Like any other Saturday. It's strangely familiar. "Do you smoke?" Shane asks me. "Yes," I reply, "but I left my cigarettes in the car." So, he gives me a cigarette. We're just hanging out and talking. I really like this guy. Finally, the AAA dispatcher calls me. They say that the Emergency Lock and Key service truck should be pulling up at any moment. Shane and I walk outside. He is getting ready to work on his car. His friend Ben is going to help him. It is another 10 or so minutes before AAA shows up. So, I watch Shane on the dolly underneath the car. God, I love mechanics. AAA comes. I get the keys. I walk back up to the house. Shane is now out from underneath the car. I walked away from one amazing guy. Am I really going to do this again? We are both standing there awkwardly. So, I just say it. "Look, it was really nice of you to help me. Let me give you my number. I'll buy you a drink sometime." And I give him my number. He pulls out a blank card. And I write his number down on it and put it in my purse. He watches me walk across the street to my car. He watches me drive away.

And all I can say is...wow. This guy knocked me over. There are rare instances in my life, when I am really affected by a guy. And here's another one that's done it to me. I would date this guy in a heartbeat...were it not for Clint. I have searched for Clint for four long months. I need to find Clint. But Shane is so cute and I have his number...

So, now I'm driving around North Hollywood all confused and upset and freaking out. I decide to drive by Carter's Automotive just in case maybe they're working there by some chance. I pull the card out that Shane gave me. I turn it over. It is not a black card. It is a business card. It is his business card. His name is Shane Curry. Now, while we were at the house, his friends were all calling him Bissell. So, I just assumed that it was his last name. But it must have been some kind of nickname. The card says that his name is Shane Curry.

That is when it hits me...the tree-lined street looks very similar to the one in Evansville...the one in the dream. Steve Crowley...Shane Curry...sound very similar. Steve lived at 419 Harlan Ave. Shane lives at 10919 Harsook Ave. This could all be coincidence. But as Beth says, "There is no such thing as coincidence."

Now, knowing all of this...what am I supposed to do? What is also interesting, is that two of the guys who lived there who were out fixing cars are named George and Mike. We already know from talking to Mr. Carter that Clint has two friends named George and Mike who also occasionally come in to Carter's to fix cars. Are these the same people? If so, then does Shane know Clint? This could be conincidence. Of course there are many Mikes and many mechanics in the area. But the combination of George and Mike? There are not as many young men named George. In addition to that, Shane told me that George shopped at "that Raven store." Is George pagan? Why is he going there? If he did shop there, that could be a way that he would know Clint. This is all very very strange. But still...is this all coincidence?

I don't know what to do. This is a major predicament. I don't want to think about Shane. But I can't stop. You can't help the way you feel. But I have to find Clint. We've searched for four months and I am in love with him. But Shane is so cute and I have his number. And there is a reason that I was there and there is a connection between all of this. Each situation involves cars and mechanics and someone helping someone else. I don't know what the connection is, but there has to be one. And I have to find Clint. And I am so torn...and sad...and heartbroken...

Updates will follow...

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