The beginning of this dream may or may not be the same dream I woke up from...
I remember bumping into Brian Bettencourt somewhere. Someone took our picture and our adult selves mirrored an old picture of he and I from back when we were about 6 years old. For whatever reason, he convinced me to stay the night at his house.
Scene change to a house I'd not sleep in in my adult life. It looked a lot like a known party house from my teenage years (party house) except it had a basement with a couch and a TV. Brian seemed to start acting in behavior like another friend from my teenage years (Scott) and even the roommates he had were Scott's friends, not Brian's. I was left in the basement to sleep and the couch was gross and the ceiling leaked everywhere. There was something on the TV that I wanted to change but suddenly my uncle John was there with the remote and refused to change it. This was a place I did not want to be, and suddenly I wasn't.
I am at the veterans graveyard facility in RI because for some reason, the casket of my grandfather had to be dug up and moved. I never went to the cemetery but it was understood that everyone buried was being moved.
We were given a plate that was supposed to be topped with the things and mementos that we had left at the grave and in the casket. I pictured myself many times in this scene as the 8 year old kid who attended my Paw-paw's funeral in the black suit, but I was my own age in the dream. I remember looking at the plate of things and feeling like it was missing a lot. There was a pipe cleaner that I used to use to clean my weed pipes, but it fell off the plate and I left it on the grass of whatever place we were at now. I specifically remember my mom, grandmother and Aunt in this scene. What remained on the plate looked to me like old, faded, white cake-toppers that appeared to have been placed on either cake or diet. They Looked almost like army men but weren't. I became agitated saying "none of this is what I've left with him, neither in his casket, nor on the grave…"
The three women tried repeatedly to convince me that I had and it was understood that they left me with the plate. I soon met another person who just seemed to not look away from his plate. Not sure what about, but he and I had struck up some sort of conversation. Not long after, he and I were called to a desk where my mother, Aunt, and grandmother waited. The new guy was behind me in line. There was some sort of exchange, I believe it was about having another sort of ceremony, and suddenly the dude at the desk said that there might be a problem with whatever the 3 women were trying to do unless he (my grandfather) was a Catholic. The guy behind me said that they were Catholics but my family looked sad. I remember saying that Paw-paw was raised Catholic, but it was like they didn't hear me. It was understood that converting to Non-denominational hindered their plans...
I had been writing something on a piece of paper and then I meet a famous person in a wheelchair (not sure who, looks kind of like the lead singer of Seventh Day Slumber, a Christian band) and end up taking a picture with him. We part ways but I notice I've lost whatever my writing was. I looked around and the dude in the wheelchair was gone.
A woman I don't know walks up to me and screams asking why I wrote what I wrote. I tell this woman she's crazy and I don't know what she's talking about. I really didn't because I don't even know what I was writing, I just knew I felt it was important and I felt like I needed to get it back…
I somehow had the plate again. I'm in a fancy hotel, the door of my room is open and my kids are in the hallway screaming at each other and running up and down the hallway, being obnoxiously loud. We are all dressed sort of fancy, I remember I had loosened the neck as if the day was ending and I was getting comfortable. The kids are at the far end down the hallway and an elevator is in the middle between us. I am mostly in the room but am keeping an eye on them by having my head a little through the doorway to keep them in sight. I see a man get off the elevator and I am startled to see that it's Philip Seymore Hoffman and he locks eyes with me and makes his way toward me. He pushed me into my room and I see a gun in his hand wrapped loosely in a cloth that looks white stained with blue ink. He pushes me to the floor and into the corner of the wall/door and pointing the gun at me and cocking it, demands where it is. I ask where what is, and he says the paper I wrote. I tell him it was stolen and he looks like he wants to shoot me and I wake up.