Dear Urbandale,

 I had a dream the other night, and you were in it. I know you've always appreciated hearing about my dreams, so I thought I would take the chance to tell you. Not sure why I had it, but, you know how sometimes my dreams are just dreams and sometimes they aren't. 

Anyway, I was having a housewarming party in a large, abundantly furnished town home I had just moved into with my roommate and my grandmother. You came with a party of mutual friends, and it looked as though you had all just come from a wedding reception, wearing purple. You handed me an envelope that contained a letter. You said you had tried sending it to me twice, but I had returned it once. 

I took it, but then someone distracted me by asking where we had placed a particular table. I couldn't remember, so I went with this person in search of it. I think we found it, and I continued making the rounds. 

I passed up the room with three girl beds (left from the previous tenants, I suppose) and went into the one containing three boy beds. There was no one else in the room, and I split open the short side of the turquoise envelope with my finger. I saw that it was a handwritten letter and stopped myself from pulling it out.

I searched you out and found you at a formal dining table, next to your wife and across from your best friend. I crouched down holding the envelope in my hand and said, "It's been three years. Is what you have to say even applicable?"
You just looked at me as though you had perhaps regretted writing the letter. 

 Then my dream changed, and I was with another friend, eating a Werther's he had just bought and running from a shooting in the street.