ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel


Updated on June 18, 2013

Brad Boyers, College Flame of the Author!

Oh, to have lost Brad Boyers, my true love, one of the only men I really loved First love I met at a Hippie college in West Virginia, it was such a fantasy, and seems almost surreal 31  years later. Dreams of him told me what was to become of us.
Oh, to have lost Brad Boyers, my true love, one of the only men I really loved First love I met at a Hippie college in West Virginia, it was such a fantasy, and seems almost surreal 31 years later. Dreams of him told me what was to become of us. | Source

Dreaming of Southern Belles


Sitting on a Massive Tree Trunk in a Dream


A Majestic Lion Pranced in!


A Girl in a black vest sat at a table!

Old Indian Man with White Face Paint was in the Dream!


Dreams are like tunnels in the brain, and it can lead anywhere, mean lots of stuff. It's amazing how vast the mind is. I find that as I age, and had a full hysterectomy 4 years ago, that my dreams have changed. I used to remember them, every little detail and even write them down for years.

Then about a year ago, I began dreaming in a different way. I would be in bed about to fall asleep, I'm still awake, not even half asleep yet, and I have a very vivid dream while I am still awake, and as I have it, i realize it's a dream and want to remember it, and I do. For e.g. I had a dream that a crazy woman walked in our condo and stood by the tv screaming her head off crazily. I could tell you how she was dressed, how she acted and then just as fast she left and I went into sleep mode. I asked my landlord who used to live here and he said some woman who was totally crazy lived here, she used to be manic and tape all the doors and window cracks closed, she had red curly hair. Freaky.

I have been doing this for many years. Even as a little kid I would have these long drawn out dreams (I miss them), and I would write them all down. Lots of them that! I recently pulled out an old diary from to see how it coincided with my life now. It's eerie.

But my biggest example showing dreams and intuitions can be a look into the future, I'll use my first love Brad Boyers (see first photo of him with Bill Clinton), a guy I had met when I attended a Hippie college in West Virginia. After I left, and came out here to California, I'd have very vivid dreams about my old flame. I met Brad Boyers my last year of college when he was coming in as a Freshman and 3 years younger than I. When I left college and came out here to California, I always had vivid dreams about him, literally years after I moved. Most of those dreams have us together for a second, and then suddenly pulled apart or him acting like he never met me.

The point I am trying to make here is that dreams are not just mirrors of us, dreams are also telltales of the future if you use the symbols right and keep track of it all, the dreams, the journals, etc. And constantly read over old dreams, because you may find your present life in it like I did.

A few months ago I was reading my own diary from 20 years ago. I saw a curious entry from 1993 about about Brad Boyers. I wondered, as I wrote "what happened to Brad Boyers?" 10 years later and wrote in bold letters "I feel like he died in a car accident and fell off the edge of the earth." Then in 2003 of May, 10 years from the 1993 entry, on his 39th birthday after not seeing him for years and years, I put his name in Google and an obit popped up, then another one - HIS OBIT saying he'd died in a tragic car accident. Oh, but keep reading this article, and learn how this all comes together.

When I read Brad's obituary in 2003, I exclaimed, "NOOOOOO!" I was devastated and could not believe it was him, but I recalled all the diary and dreams I had about Brad, and how our relationship followed the same patterns as the dreams and diary entries.

Two years ago I got an operation and instead of counting backwards I said Brad Boyers' name over and over before I went under and I had a dream I was in a huge underground cavern. I look up and the wind is blowing. I see Brad Boyers standing on this podium. He didn't seem to know me as I walked up to him. He was wearing a white silk shirt, brown woven pants, and shiny black shoes. He looked down at me and said, "Who are you?" And I woke up.

It was then I realized he didn't truly remember me after I left college in 1982, then only saw him 3 times, 1984, 1986 and 1989. Then we lost touch. I was always trying to track him down and after almost 20 years I did and he was into it, but then he just stopped writing so I got angry and said in an angry email, Brad: Wow, you are either 1. Gay 2. Have a girl, or 3. are drunk, because he sent me a strange photo of a naked lady on a bench and he wrote "PRICELESS" on it and sent it from his job at the Capitol in West Hartford CT. He's gotten into politics, as he'd always wanted to.

I was mad and wrote his sister who called me a "freak alert" and then he wrote me and told me off, said to " off," that I was nuts and didn't want "...his kids on hyperactivity meds if he had them with me," which was never in the cards in reality. I had fooled myself with my heart, and not thought with my brain.

Then about 3 years later I met this man who I flipped for like I did for Brad all those years ago in college, but it was 2002, not 1982. I wrote Brad and told him. He wrote back and we started talking on the phone again. Then I had to break it off with the guy I'd flipped for out here because I was cheating on my boyfriend of 10 years with this this guy, whose name was Art! I lost him, the only man to remind me of Brad Boyers. After the break up, I started to try and get back with Brad even though it was 20 years later!

I was at my job and he called me and we talked. His last words to me were, "I love you!" and my last words were "BE CAREFUL on the road Brad!"

There was a reason for this statement by me. When I broke up with Art, the man that reminded me of Brad, I was so devastated that I felt like my secret lover died in a car wreck. I called Brad and told him the man I was finally happy with and reminded me so much of him, had died in a tragic car accident, when in reality Art had not really died. But it felt at the time like he had, and I NEVER saw him in the flesh again either.

So I told Brad that my second true love died in a auto accident. After that, Brad started calling me every now and then. Then I met my husband online in March of 2003. I wrote Brad and told him I met another nice guy, but got no response. I figured he may have met another and forgot about us. Then 2 months later on May 22nd, I found out what happened to Brad Boyers..

I Googled his name back then (2003) and his obit popped up and read, "Brad Boyers died in a tragic car accident on March 5!" My dad's birthday is March 5th. And this is even crazier: My dad killed himself and died on May 22, BRAD'S BIRTHDAY, how weird is that?

So Dreams are not just dreams, they are very real. After I had that dream I started to realize I'd only known him for 4 months in college, my last year, his first. So after I left, I'm sure other kids all ran up (the haters) and told him all about my antics through the years, since he was only a Freshman and I was a Senior graduating college.


Decamer 27th, 1982 ...This is how our relationship ended, as quick as it had started, just to give you an idea of how a dream love could have become something real: I left and came out West to CA. It didn't take long for Brad to blow me off. But 8 years later, when I visited my family in Rhode Island. I called Brad at his family home in CT, and by chance he was home so he took me to my high school reunion. There's more, but he died 10 years ago and it took me 30 years to figure out why he never came to me out here in CA, when I was living in a nice house in Beverly Hills, CA with my childhood friend and others.

I wondered for many years why he didn't want to come out here. So through the years I pined for him, thought of him, looked for him in every man I met. That's what happened when I met Arthur, that one guy from years ago, but finally enough was enough.

I found his mom on Facebook and told her I was with her son in College 30 years ago, and was sorry he died, and then she asked if I wanted some of his hair for a keepsake, I said yes, and she sent it registered mail!

So much for Brad Boyers. Once his mom sent me the hair, I put him to bed finally. I think what happened is that I'm was a bit over the top and crazy in a good way at my 'hippie' college in West Virginia. So maybe folks (my peers) were jealous of Brad and I because I was crazy about him, and he about me at the time. We were attached at the hip. First love and all!

But when I left college one year early, I'm sure many of the gossips and other students who thought I was weird and a bit of a nut, loud and distracting, may have approached him when the coast was clear and sort of spilled the beans on me to him.

Toward the end of our college stint together, I started to lightly notice that he was hanging with some of the big mouth male students, one being a guy named Harry, who influenced him, and had him come to his house for Thanksgiving, while I went to Florida to see my my mother marry a rich old man 40 years older than her.

When I returned to college, I shrugged off that weird feeling I was feeling like butterflies in my stomach, and as I unpacked in my room in the girl's dorm that he and I actually shared, I had a slight unsettling feeling. But he did show up and we ended up having sex for 3 hours, then went up to dinner.

By that time, and 3 orgasms later, that weird feeling faded a bit, but whenever I saw Harry or a few other guys Brad began hanging around with after the college break, I just brushed aside that feeling and I felt that he may have wanted to hang around other people due to that influence.

He was 18 and I was 20. I was leaving and he was just starting out. That may have been part of the problem. I also was told by him that he had another girlfriend in his town. But he said not to worry about it, he loved me.

I still went to his home during Christmas break and his sister was absent and his family never took me out on the town, or even to a restaurant. We spent the 4 days driving around only at night, and in the day we stayed around his house. We did also visit some of his friends, but that was usually late at night, way past midnight.

Now that I am older and it's 30 years later, I can tell now that I am looking back at it (us), that I should have moved on, but carried his torch for years even though I had other men enter my life, plus a few live in boyfriends.

When Facebook became popular about 2 years ago, I looked up his sister, brother and mother and found them all. I befriended them and began to write his mom. She wrote me back, but didn't realize I was the girl from college that he brought home that 1982 Christmas week.

Then I remembered his old girlfriend he said he had throughout his high school years before he came to the Hippe college. Her name was Tracy, and I just learned her last name a few weeks ago when I actually found her on Facebook as a friend to Brad's mother and sister.

Her last name was "STEINBERG" which was the name of the man my mother married in Florida over Thanksgiving all those years ago when I was with Brad, and I truly remember me saying to Brad who this man was and what his last name was at least a dozen times, but he NEVER let on that his hometown girlfriend's (they had supposedly broken up, but he lied) last name was also "Steinberg". That is a detail he never brought up and I wondered why. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I think his family, friends and Tracy herself expected him to come back and make a life with her in his hometown, which is what he did.

I came out to California anyways, thinking he'd follow once I got established. I ended up living in a nice house in Beverly Hills with my childhood friend and another couple and I was anxious to get Brad a ticket and have him come out to California to visit, he would have loved it. I called him back at the Hippie college that he returned to for a last semester.

He didn't have much to say during those phone calls. Once when he thought I was not around, I asked my roommate Tiffany to call and talk to him and see what was up as I listened on the other extension. She did, and he said he was marrying Tracy! I was devastated. From then on whenever I met a guy and we dated, I always compared him to Brad. And, the ticket I'd gotten for him to fly out was returned for cash and I drowned my sorrows out at "Alan Hale Jr.'s (Skipper on tv show Gilligan's Island) Lobster seafood restaurant, eating all alone. Finally Alan Hale Jr. came around to all the tables, but when he came to my table I told him my mother was best pals with Tina Louise (Ginger on same show) and he said (to add more insult to injury) "Wow, really 'sonny'?"

I told him I was a woman and he said, "Oh sorry Little Lady." I never finished my dinner, had them wrap it and I left. As I was leaving in all my sadness over Brad. I spotted Alan Hale Jr. standing by the doorway. I went back up to him and thanked him and he said, "Oh no problem sonny...I mean little lady, whoops!" I got his autograph and left the restaurant and headed back up to the house I lived in with that couple and childhood friend and just cried my eyes out as I listened to the couple in the house making love and lots of noise. At that time they were only 18 and 20, and my childhood friend was also 21, as was I. But hearing the couple made me yearn for my college romance to flourish in CA too.

After that, I didn't hear from him until about 1 year later when he wrote me a letter out of the blue asking how I was. By that time I was living in my own place in Beverly Hills CA and working for a P.R. company, meeting celebrities, making money and having a ball. I got to meet Little Richard, the black musician and actually dialed up Brad Boyers and gave the phone to Little Richard. He told Brad that, "..this young lady here is going to be a very successful musician!" He jotted down an autograph for Brad and I sent it to him. Many years later I found out Brad never believed it was Little Richard, but other black musician friends I was working with at the time on music and starting a band. He thought it was one of them pretending to be Little Ricahrd.

Then, 4 years after that (1988) Brad wrote me another letter asking if he could come out and live with me or nearby, if i could help him find a place, that he'd been thinking of me a lot. We made plans and I dreamed day and night of the moment we'd be reunited. I'd not seen him since I visited him for a short while in 1984, but all we did was drive around town and hang out with his friend David at some cold lake.

I placed ads in rental sections of the local Beverly Hills newspapers and he called and said some woman answered the ad and he gave me an address of 132 S. Canon Drive, which would become a very significant address by 1996. Just when he was about to fly out, he called and said that the rental had fallen through and could he just stay with me? I agreed to it even though I was with this black guitar player named JustinTyme. And had been with the guitar player on and off in the last 5 years. I never told him and Justin was never around much, and usually with his bass player, a girl also from Brad's state, and she even used to babysit for my mother's best friend's children, a rich family from Greenwich, where this bass player lived also.

But I had Brad come straight to my apartment in Beverly Hills, where I had a big two bedrooms and a fully furnished place, and it was only 2 blocks from my job with a publicist named Kip Morrison. He finally showed up and called me from the pay phone at the top of my street - Elm Drive. I walked in my bathrobe and bare feet to meet him. I had only seen him in my dreams for the last 4 years, but there he stood on the corner in the flesh. At first I was very happy to see him, but as we walked back to my apartment, I noticed he'd filled out considerably, and had grown quite large in the face and stomach. He had a very hairy, barrel looking chest and he wore a very silly hat with a team called "The Whalers" on it. It was not exactly as I had dreamed meeting him again, but it was Brad.

We walked back to my apartment where I lived with another guy named Tom, who was gay and dating famous photographer Greg Gorman, and hanging with an assortment of semi gay show folks. I sat with Brad for most of the early morning, then went to work up the street. He stayed there with Tom. I stared to feel uncomfortable having him there, because I knew Justin would sometimes show up without calling. He probably felt so guilty for cheating on me with his bass player that he might have shown up.

I didn't have to worry about him, but unbeknownst to me, Tom had told Brad about my big, black guitar playing boyfriend. He also told Brad a lot of other stuff that was going on. And I feel Tom was afraid he'd lose his living situation. We were all still sort of young, so didn't have that confidence, even though Tom could have been one of the best photographers and artists if he'd put his mind too it and didn't just want to hang all day at my apartment. His twin sister Debbie was also staying with us too. She put her two cents in, and before I could say "Let's crawl into my bed and snuggle," Brad got cold feet and asked Tom to drive him back to the airport.

I got home sort of dreading to see Brad, who had already left anyways. I got home and Tom and Debbie told me what happened. Then Brad himself called that evening and said he met some guy named Moe and Moe was going to get him a job in Torrance and lived in gang infested Compton, which Brad didn't realize. So Brad moved in with Moe and began to work at a big restaurant chain as a dishwasher, not a prep cook as he was trained. I didn't call Brad a lot, only like the first few days he was with Moe living in Gangland! I didn't tell Brad that Moe's place was in a bad area. In fact, after the second call on the second day he'd been with Moe, I called about one week later. Moe said that Brad had decided to leave and go back home and that was a week ago.

I hung up with Moe and called Brad at his home in West Hartford. He was cold and distant with me, then just never came to the phone when I called him. He also told me that Tom had filled him in on Justin and I. He didn't want that kind of trouble, especially since Justin was black and supposedly I was still connected. There were other reasons he left as well, that went unsaid between us. He had just turned 17 when he went to my college. I had just turned 20 and graduating one year early and heading out to California.

After that, we lost touch obviously. About 2 years later I went to visit my brothers who were living in our old hometown of Barrington Rhode Island, in a quaint house on Maple Avenue. On a whim, I called Brad, he answered! We spoke, and I said I was at my brother's house, and could we see each other. He agreed and we met.

He took me to dinner then to my 10 year high school reunion, which was fun. That was August of 1989, and back in mid May of '89 I'd gotten an Ovarian Tumor and had surgery to remove it. It was just a big tumor and not Cancer, but I still could not make love due to the scar healing, and so when he brought me back to my brother's house, he slept in the living room on a pull out couch and I slept in an my brother's room which had an extra bed, while my other brother slept in his room. I never told Brad of my surgery. I knew as I lay in my brother's room that it was done with Brad and I.

The next day Brad drove me to the airport in the same car we'd made love in when I visited him many years back. I stared at the back seat where we'd once made love sweetly behind the School of the Deaf in his hometown. He kissed me goodbye at the airport and I started to cry because deep down inside me, i knew we'd only be like we were in dreams, if at all. I left and went back to California where Justin waited for me at the gate, guitar case in hand, and we got my luggage and took 3 buses home to my apartment in Beverly Hills. I never told Justin I was with Brad, because there was nothing to tell.

I still would have dreams about being back with Brad throughout the next few years. Then, 10 years later almost to the date of when I last saw Brad, the internet came of age, and I was able to try and track him down. It took some doing, and I wasn't with Justin any longer. I was with another guitar player, this one white and handsome and also from CT. His name was PJ (Philip John) and he was extremely good looking, but very jealous of other men approaching me.

By November of 1999, I was thinking of leaving PJ due to his cruel ways and biting humor and horrible love making qualities. I was very down and sad that I was with PJ, even though he was a great looking man with classic features, and had very long naturally curly hair like me.

On a whim, at the job I was at, a Venture Capital call center, I started to try and find Brad again. On the same day as my little blurb about meeting Robert F. Kennedy came out in the newspaper, I found him.

It was the 30th anniversary of Kennedy's death and the paper at that time was accepting little articles about either meeting Kennedy or about him. Kennedy lived at the UN Plaza along with my family, and I'd see him and his family on numerous occasions, even when he was shot, and my mother and grandmother went to his funeral. Because of their pet charity, Rose Kennedy invited them to sit with the Kennedy family. I wrote about that, and the paper took my article and printed it on November 29, 1999, the same day I found Brad Boyers again by emailing his younger brother Jon, who by this time was in a Colorado high school teaching shop class/metal shop.

I wrote him a short email that I had found finally. I still remember it: Jon got my email and by that evening Brad was emailing me. I was over the moon and ready to ready to break it off with PJ now that Brad and I were back in touch. At that time he was in Arizona. He said he was there going to University of Arizona taking Political Science classes, he wanted to go into politics and was climbing the ropes of the Democratic Party. We did write back and forth and then he gave me his number in Arizona. I called a few times, but he never called back. And one day some strange man named Herb answered and asked rudely, "Who the hell are you?" I explained. The next time I heard from Brad was a few days later, but I could tell he was drunk.

In fact, every time he did call me, he sounded drunk. Once he said to me over the phone, "Oh, I remember the sex we had!" It was at that moment I realized that he probably started drinking more and became like his own father, an alcoholic. He told me he was not married to Tracy Steinberg anymore, but I could also tell he didn't remember us in college like I did, nor was he having any vivid dreams he wanted to share as I wanted to share with him like in the late evening when he and I were lying together in my dorm room. Too much time had passed.

PJ was sort of wise that something was amiss. I had stopped wanting to get intimate with PJ, and could only think of Brad, even though I knew that dreams of him were one thing, but being with him now would be reaching a bit. Then he sent me that naked woman, I wrote his sister, and he wrote me to never contact him again.

I'm over him and only have happy memories of us. I don't think he remembered as much as I did in that 4 months back in 1982, because he may have started to drink after college, and I left. We tend to forget details as our lives grow like trees. I have an autobiographical memory and can pretty much remember small details and I kept accurate journals of my days and dreams. I can look back and it feels like yesterday, sort of. Feel free to send me any dreams you want done. I do it free always.

NOW TO THE BUSINESS AT HAND: One of my new Facebook friends had a very clear dream, and this author explained in great detail. Here is that dream, a male had it: "It’s mornings like this I wish I knew about dream interpretation and dream object associations. What an interesting, vivid, menagerie of experiences I had last night..

I went to some kind of book reading at a small community center. There was this poet or author that showed up to give a reading, but did not because the room was mostly vacant.

The room I was in then transformed into a Serengeti like environment, as I sat on the trunk of this massive tree and watched this huge majestic Lion with an incredible mane prance around me with a blazing bonfire nearby, only then to have the scene switch to a pueblo like staircase with three beautiful women in Southern Belle Ball gowns appearing on the staircase, one of them coming down taking me in her arms as I gave her a sweeping ballroom dance dip, then to be sitting at a table sitting with a woman in a black leather vest, as an elderly Native American man that she seemed to be very close to approached and stood watching us silently and stoically with his face painted white with clay or gypsum.

More was going on, but this is what I recall. It’s very unusual for me to remember these, and have them this vivid. I enjoyed it.

It was very nice. I didn't feel at all threatened by the Lion. It was very large with deep shimmering shades of gold, and seemed to dance around me almost playfully. In the dream, I had decided to retire for the night on the trunk of the tree, and the instinctive thought came into my mind, that perhaps I shouldn't drift off with the lion in my presence, but I somehow knew that there was absolutely nothing to fear from it, and then the scene switched.

So the next thing I did was to expound and interpret this dream of my new friend: I'm an expert: Everyone in your dream is an aspect of YOU, and only you! You go to a book reading at small center, author shows, no audience means that you sometimes feel you may be in the wrong field and may crave (subconsciously of course) a change of venue.

Then room changes into Serengeti, and there’s that massive tree (tree of your life) and lion. And you said LION, that’s your masculine side showing itself as a lion. Then scene switches. The three women represent you as well, and may mean “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil,” meaning you don’t want to tread on others ground.

The Indian is you, your strong silent side. It’s weird that the girls were Southern Belle types and the Indian was obviously the boyfriend of one the one girl not dressed like the others, but in a black vest. A vest is a masculine symbol.

The women represent the creative intuitive, receptive, emotional, nurturing side of you, relatedness, feelings in the unconscious. That which is open can be penetrated or entered in your life.

That Indian, as stated, is YOU, due to the white face. You don’t always know yourself, and think others may misinterpret you. You don’t want to be misinterpreted, that’s a stickler with you, according to the dream symbols. This is only going on my feelings or intuitions, as when I read palms and do the crystal readings. When you are dancing in your dream, as vivid as you describe, it means Lightheartedness, happiness, joy, the dance of life, your life.

Also, you could also be dancing around a PROBLEM too. The stoic Indian also represents the teacher, higher self or guidance. Depending upon context, whenever you dream of another race, it means there’s a part of yourself that feels a little foreign to you. You are sometimes a little fearful of things you do not understand. Look out for new things coming your way, seeing as you saw a book or books or the subject of books. And that was what I thought it meant to this man.


    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    No comments yet.