it's 8:49 am, on October 16, 2003 - Aaron Webster, beaten to death.

~

All the way home today, I prayed.

The radio this morning said that one of the men arrested for the beating death of Aaron Webster was released on bail. He'd been killed, in Stanley Park, in what they suspected was gay-bashing. A hate crime.

I don't know if I ever told you all this, but I dreamed that Will's boyfriend had died, actually at least three times in a row. I'm sure I never told him. The death was brutal, however it happened in the dream. Angry. It was awful. I dream things that happen all the time, little inconsequential things, nothing I remember. Sometimes I know I've dreamed about something that will happen, the particular scene, the way that glass sat on the table while I was asleep. I also dreamed a Mike I knew would die in an avalanche, a fear so palatable that I called him to confirm otherwise. That one persisted. I'm half-sure even now that he'll end up freezing to death.

Will's boyfriend is, obviously, gay. They moved to Victoria a few weeks ago but that's no reason that they couldn't be in town. The radio is so non-specific. Today I tasted deep seeded fear. Will's boyfriend's name is, predictably enough, Aaron Webster.

Meet Aaron Webster, age 41, beaten to death in 2001 for being gay. He looks nothing like the Aaron I know, but for about twenty minutes I sat in my car thinking, "must I lose this too?" Maybe I'll visit him and Will next weekend.

~

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