Will the Real Brett Goldstein Please Stand Up — Part 3

Enter Buddy Peace

Playlist cover Created by Buddy Peace

Just When You Think

Why is it that just when we find our rhythm… not perfect, but ours… steady enough to feel safe, dependable in a way that only comes from learning how to steer our own ship… something shifts?

Someone appears.

Dropped into waters we had finally learned how to navigate, moving freely, almost playfully… creating ripples where there had only been stillness.

I don’t fully have the answer to that question.

I have my theories. Most of them point to the same thing:

Maybe this is just the human experience.

A theory that could absolutely be debated.

As you sit with that, let me take you back to where we left off.

I had just launched my podcast. The first episode was out. And somehow, I had lassoed my best friend into following the breadcrumbs with me on this very interesting journey that had become my waking life.

The funny thing about convincing Dee? I didn’t have to do much.

The universe made sure she had all the proof she needed.

And just like that, the adventure began.

Fran and Dee Take A Ride

What followed felt less like a continuation and more like a gentle return.

A return to Austin.

To the trip Dee and I had taken. The one that, on paper, was supposed to be about a panel. About Brett. About something happening.

Nothing did.

At least… not in the way I thought it would.

We did see Brett. We listened to him speak on stage as part of the panel. But there was no moment. No encounter. No cinematic unfolding of the story I had been building in my mind.

But the breadcrumbs still led us there.

And instead of leading to him… they led me back to myself.

To us.

To long conversations, laughter, wandering the city without an agenda… to something that, in hindsight, felt less like a trip and more like a kind of spiritual retreat for our souls. A much-needed one for both of us.

Now, I know… that might sound a little woo woo.

But you know me by now.

That’s just part of who I am.

When I drove into Austin, it felt like I had arrived somewhere that had been waiting for me my entire life.

It felt familiar.

Like I had already been there once before.

There were moments… driving down certain streets, passing buildings… where I would get these flashes.

Memories of my grandparents.

Los Angeles.

A completely different place. A completely different time.

And yet… somehow, it all felt connected.

Like everything was being woven together in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

And the dreams?

They didn’t stop.

In fact, I had another Brett dream my very first night home from Austin.

They continued… quietly weaving themselves into the background.

But something in me had shifted.

I wasn’t gripping them the same way anymore. I wasn’t trying to decode every symbol or chase every meaning.

I let them be what they were.

Whimsy. Mystery. Maybe even a little magic.

But grounded.

Because in my waking life… I was already doing the thing.

And that’s when it hit me.

“Doing the Thing”…

That’s what he had been telling me all along.

Not in some grand, cinematic way. Not with answers or instructions.

Just… that.

Do the thing.

Write. Create. Use your voice. Show up for your life.

And I was.

I was writing. Publishing. Letting my thoughts exist outside of me instead of circling endlessly within.

I was building something.

A blog. A book. A podcast that gave me a voice I didn’t fully realize I had been waiting to use.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that… I realized something I hadn’t expected.

Maybe the dreams had never been about getting somewhere.

Maybe they were there to get me moving.

The Elephant in the Bathroom

The dream takes place on a warm summer night in June 2025.

(This is real-time intel… not dream intel.)

It begins by fading into a quiet neighborhood sitting on top of a hill.

I’m not exactly sure where this neighborhood is. That’s one of the interesting things about dreams. Sometimes the setting feels familiar… and sometimes it feels like a place that was created for you in the exact moment you arrive.

The dream camera pans to a house.

Simple. Quaint.

Nestled among others beneath a big, golden sky.

Maybe it was because the house sat up in the hills… but it felt like we were closer to the sky.

I actually got the warm fuzzies thinking about it.

I’m inside the house.

With Brett.

And about a hundred other people.

It felt like it might have been our home.

But you know how dreams go…

Certainty isn’t guaranteed.

We were both hosting separate events on the same day, in the same house.

Which… felt chaotic.

Not necessarily something we had planned that way.

Brett was on one side of the house. It looked like he was doing some sort of promo for his movie.

(Keep in mind… his movie hadn’t been released yet. Not until September 2025.)

Pause.

On the other side of the house… I was hosting a book signing.

I’m hoping it was for the book I’m currently writing.

There were people everywhere.

Press. Cameras. Movement in every direction.

It felt chaotic… but in a good way. Like… this is a lot… but it’s working.

Brett and I would cross paths every so often. A quick smile. A subtle wink. A quiet, you’ve got this in passing. Little shoulder brushes. Unspoken encouragement.

And it really did feel like we had it.

Everything was moving. Flowing. Working.

At one point, I slipped away from the noise and made my way to the bathroom.

As I turned the knob and pushed the door open, it wouldn’t budge.

Just a crack.

I leaned into it. Pushed harder. Eventually putting my full weight against the door until it finally gave.

And that’s when I saw it.

An elephant.

Resting on my bathroom floor.

Parked directly in front of my toilet.

Now… even though I had become a regular traveler in the dream world, a place where anything is possible, I found myself completely baffled by what felt like a very obvious question.

How did an elephant get into my bathroom?

And then, almost immediately, a bigger question followed.

How was I going to get it out?

Enter Buddy Peace

As good fortune would have it, Brett and I had a team of wonderfully talented people helping us navigate this crowded, high-energy event.

But they didn’t feel like just a team.

It felt more like a soul tribe. The people you create with… and who create with you.

There was an energy of familiarity, of family, woven throughout the entire space.

I needed help.

I shut the bathroom door. Don’t ask me why.

And then I made my way quickly down the hallway, scanning for anyone who could help me with this very specific situation.

That’s when I saw him.

Walking toward me.

Tall. T-shirt. Glasses. Flat cap.

Buddy Peace.

Buddy held the same role in the 5D as he does in the 3D.

Whether awake or asleep, he is the producer and editor of Brett’s podcast.

Or as I like to think of it—

The Films to Be Buried With portal.

It made sense that he would be there. He had been part of it from the beginning.

And this is where things begin to blur a little. Where the lines between dream and waking life start to soften.

In real life, Buddy and I had only exchanged a few brief interactions through Patreon. I’m a member. From time to time, he engages with listeners, replying to comments and questions. Always signing off as BP… so you know it’s him, not Brett.

A small detail… but a thoughtful one.

We had a couple of short back-and-forth exchanges.

And at one point, he released an episode showcasing his music.

I fell in love with the music mix he created. Music has always been my thing… my passion. I’m always open to discovering new music and artists.

So I looked him up.

Just to hear more.

That’s how I found out what he looked like.

And now… There he was.

Walking toward me in a dream.

Back in the 5D, I stopped him.

“Buddy, I need your help.”

There was a mix of urgency and relief in my voice.

I explained the situation, and without hesitation, he followed me down the hallway toward the bathroom.

As we walked, I tried to explain what was going on. Once we reached the door, Buddy took one look inside and immediately understood the gravity of what we were dealing with.

Which was good.

Because I had one very important question:

“How does one remove an elephant from their bathroom?”

We both looked at each other.

Then Buddy said—

“We’ve got this.”

And just like that, we got to work.

Calling around. Trying to find someone—anyone—who specialized in this sort of thing.

You know…

The removal of large wild animals from residential bathrooms.

Even in a dream, options were limited.

Buddy found me again.

“I found someone,” he said.

“They’re on their way.”

We all decided to take a breather and step outside for some fresh air while we waited.

Buddy had filled Brett in on the current situation.

Just a heads up… you might want to use the upstairs bathroom if needed.

Collide

A white truck made its way up the driveway.

It looked like a plumber’s truck.

White.

With an elephant painted on the side.

And an advertisement that read:

“We Remove Elephants From Your Bathroom”

I know what you’re thinking.

What goes on in that mind of yours?

Apparently… this.

We welcomed the remover of displaced elephants.

We’ll call him Ty.

Ty just feels like the kind of name that belongs to someone gentle… someone kind… someone who would know exactly how to handle an elephant.

We walked him to the bathroom and let him work his magic.

I wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to get the elephant through the doorway, considering there was absolutely no logical explanation for how it had gotten in there in the first place.

But in this particular dream moment… none of that really mattered.

My amazing crew and I waited outside.

Patiently.

A few moments later, Ty emerged.

With the elephant.

We were ecstatic.

He moved the elephant into his truck, and we all thanked him.

And once again… I don’t have an explanation that would make any of that make sense.

But it didn’t need to.

We started cheering.

Woo-Hooing.

High-fiving each other like we had just pulled off something impossible.

Buddy and I shared a solid high five. Then we looked at each other… and smiled.

That kind of smile where you don’t need words.

Where you just know:

We did that.

We stood there watching Ty drive away with the elephant under a sky that looked like it had been hand-painted. Swirls of gold. Orange. Pink. Airbrushed across a soft blue backdrop.

It felt like the perfect ending to a magical story.

One of those good-feeling moments.

We worked together.

We solved the problem.

That sounds like a solid plan for everything in life, doesn’t it?

Buddy helped me remove the elephant from the bathroom.

I want you to remember that line.

Because it’s going to carry more meaning than either of us could have imagined.

Only… it wasn’t an ending.

It was the beginning.

Sometime In The Morning

Now, back in the 3D—

I woke up that morning immediately wondering:

WTF was that all about?

Of course, I grabbed my phone and Googled:

“What does it mean when you dream that an elephant is stuck in your bathroom?”

This was the most consistent answer:

An elephant stuck in a bathroom in a dream is a powerful symbol representing an unresolved, major issue that you are trying to hide or avoid in your private life. It combines the “elephant in the room” idiom with the bathroom’s symbolism of intimate cleansing, privacy, or emotional release.

I paused.

Took a moment.

Did a quick internal inventory.

Was there something still lingering… something that needed to be addressed?

I mean… yes.

But isn’t that always the case?

And honestly?

Nothing felt like it was being lit up for me in that moment.

I was actually feeling pretty good.

About me. About life. About what I was creating.

Meanwhile… the world felt like it was actively collapsing all around me.

Isn’t that weird?

The moment you finally feel like:

I can do this.

I’ve got this.

I made it.

Someone hits fast forward.

And that feeling?

You get to carry it with you… while everything else around you feels like it’s spiraling into some sort of diabolical timeline.

F**k me.

The Space Between

It was September 12, 2025.

A warm summer day.

I had the day off.

I spent the earlier part of the day doing all the things I had to do… cleaning, organizing, and tending to the responsibilities I enjoy the least.

Earbuds in.

Fully immersed in whatever playlist I had chosen for the day.

Then my phone buzzed on the dresser.

I glanced over.

A couple of Instagram notifications appeared on my screen.

Buddy Peace started following you.

Buddy Peace sent you a message.

Does any of this sound familiar?

(If it does… you’ve been here before.)

Now, I know what this sounds like. Like imagination and storytelling weaving themselves together to create a perfectly timed moment.

But that’s not what it felt like.

It felt more like… I was witnessing something unfold in real time. Something I didn’t fully understand… but couldn’t ignore either.

There are some things we just don’t have explanations for. And by this point, I had started to accept that. Because these kinds of moments—these odd, almost too-perfect coincidences—had quietly become part of my everyday life.

Buddy had shown up in my suggested friends on Instagram.

I remember thinking:

Oh… hey. He’s on here.

So I clicked over to his page.

It was filled with pieces of his music. Woven together with visuals that captured beauty in the simplest forms. A breeze moving its way through a field. The steady rhythm of the ocean. Sunlight reflecting off the water.

They weren’t just videos.

They felt like moments.

And they spoke to every one of my senses.

I couldn’t help it.

I left a few comments, telling him how beautiful the stories he was creating were.

I wasn’t expecting a response.

That wasn’t the point.

It was just… letting someone know you see them. That what they created landed.

I did, however, mention that I was Francisca from Patreon.

Which, now that I say it out loud… sounds a little funny.

Hi. It’s me. From… the other internet place.

But he responded.

And the first thing I noticed?

The length of his message.

Now, I know some people might see that as a negative.

I thought it was cool AF.

Because I, too, tend to run on in messages. And suddenly I was like—

Wait…

There are more of us?

Is there a village somewhere where people write full, thoughtful messages?

Did I once live there?

Was I separated from my people and dropped into a world of four-word responses?

Because if so… I would very much like to go back.

Let’s just say… we hit it off immediately.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that, there was this quiet awareness.

Neither of us naming it.

But both of us feeling it.

And quietly asking ourselves—

What is happening here?

Maybe She

I wasn’t sure.

But I knew this—

He made me smile.

He made me laugh.

And that hadn’t been coming easily.

Not lately.

Living in it here… and him only knowing it through headlines over there, we were stepping into the same moment from two very different realities.

So I leaned into it.

With him in the U.K. and me in the U.S., there was a bit of a dance around timing. A six-hour difference and two busy lives.

Which meant a video call… had to be intentional.

Before that happened, though, I noticed he had found his way to my website. The place where everything lived. My podcast. My writing. Including the blogs about Brett.

And I remember thinking—

He might need a little context.

Show and Tell

It was time to tell him my kooky story.

So I did.

“Buddy… have I got a story for you.”

I told him everything.

The dreams. All of it.

And I remember thinking… this could go one of two ways.

He could hear all of this, decide it was a bit too out there, and that might be the last conversation we have.

Which… would have been a bummer.

But what can you do?

Gone are the days of wasting energy trying to convince anyone of anything.

So onward we go.

He listened.

There was a pause.

And then he said—

“Can you do a video call right now?”

Immediate no.

At that moment, I had a face mask on. My hair was a mess of curls thrown up into a top knot that clearly said we are not seeing anyone today.

My exact reply was:

“Ummm… that wasn’t on my bingo card for the day.”

“Really?”

I told him I was not in a FaceTime kind of a place at the moment.

He laughed a little and then said,

“I just need you to turn the camera on me. You can keep yours off.”

I paused.

“Why?”

“I just need you to see something. I promise it’s not creepy.”

Okay.

He read my mind.

I was still secretly hoping I wasn’t about to see anything weird.

Because… let’s be real.

I hesitated for a second.

Not because I thought it was creepy, but because I genuinely had no idea what I was about to see.

But curiosity won, and I agreed.

I turned the camera toward him.

There he was.

Sitting in his space.

His desk. His setup. Instruments. Microphone. Headphones.

Everything.

And for a second, I just took it all in.

As someone who has her own podcast… who loves music… seeing him sitting there, surrounded by the things I love…

It was a whole moment.

I felt like Wayne in Wayne’s World the first time he saw Cassandra.

Like, there was this dreamy, misty aura of colors floating around him.

Dream Weaver started playing in my head.

I felt like I had those twinkling, starry cartoon eyes.

I smiled.

There was no way I could fight that one back.

“Hey, you.”

And then I asked,

“What did you want me to see?”

(Please don’t let this turn creepy.)

(Please don’t let this turn creepy.)

He reached down…

Oh no…

Then tugged on his t-shirt.

(Phew.)

“I’m going to zoom in—hold on.”

And then—

There it was.

The moment I realized what I was staring at.

Scenes from my dream started playing like a slideshow in my head.

The white truck… with the elephant graphic on the side.

The elephant sitting in the bathroom.

And then—

I looked back at the screen.

Buddy was wearing a t-shirt with an elephant on it.

For a second, it felt like my dream and my waking life had collided. Like a glitch in the matrix, and I honestly wasn’t sure which one I was in.

My eyes popped.

“Are you kidding me?”

He looked right back at me and said,

“I have to be honest… I am pretty taken aback myself right now.”

It was wild.

And for a second, neither of us really said anything.

Because… what do you even say to that?

“It’s not just me?”

“This is kind of nuts.”

“Right?”

“It absolutely is.”

Something felt different in that moment for both of us. There was almost this knowing… that we were being introduced into each other’s worlds for a reason.

We had no idea what that reason was.

But we were both there for it.

You Just May Be The One

We talked for six hours that night. A conversation that was followed by a record-breaking eight-hour conversation for both of us.

This quickly became our new normal—talking into the wee hours of the night for me, and the early morning for Buddy.

We were exhausted, elated, and excited all at the same time.

I remember pouring creamer into my coffee cup… and forgetting the coffee entirely. Smiling, completely unaware of what I was doing.

Staring off into space with a goofy grin on my face while people asked, “What are you smiling at?” and then catching myself—

Was I?

Buddy and I would compare notes on all the little fumbles and mishaps we were having throughout the day, and none of it bothered us. Because whatever was developing between us seemed to blur everything else out.

In between those marathon conversations, we did what music nerds do best—we made each other playlists.

Carefully curated. Thoughtfully built. Little pieces of ourselves, handed back and forth.

That part… was the best.

The kind of connection that others don’t always quite understand—but we did.

He once told me that every time he sent me a playlist, it felt like we were in the hallways at school, and he was slipping a mixtape into my backpack.

And honestly? That’s exactly what it felt like.

At one point, I left a comment on an episode of The Films to Be Buried With Patreon—pretending to be just a listener. And he replied kindly, casually, as if I was still that same person he had only interacted with here and there.

It felt cheeky. (I loved that part.)

We both kept saying the same thing—we felt like kids again.

Somewhere along the way, we lose that. The ability to be that open. That goofy. That honest.

We had both come from places where love felt heavy. Complicated. Questionable.

Wondering if something like that—

that feeling,

that comfort,

that ease—

and that person who embodied all of it…

even existed anymore.

I had reached a point where I doubted it more than I believed in it, finding me.

And I had made peace with that.

I wasn’t looking for love. I figured that if there was someone meant to walk through this life with me, we would find each other—somehow. But either way, I was good.

I wasn’t expecting Buddy.

Even though, in some strange way… I was being prepared for him all along.

For the first time, we both felt like we were truly being seen—and that it was more than okay to be exactly who we were.

Because it was enough.

It felt right.

One morning, he called me before I had to go into work. He just wanted to say hello—to get my day off to a good start.

And by that point, every time we talked, my chest would get warm.

My insides felt… soft.

Mushy.

I know. It sounds cheesy.

I thought so too.

But it was real.

He said something to me that morning—something simple, but full of meaning—and I felt it again. That warmth. That pull.

And I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

It scared me a little.

Because feelings like that come with risk. And I had been taking risks in my work, in my creativity… not my heart.

I remember thinking—

Do I say it?

Do I actually say what I’m feeling?

My heart started beating faster.

“Buddy… there’s something I want to tell you.”

And he said,

“Wait—before you do… there’s something I want to tell you. I don’t know how you’re going to respond, but I need to say it anyway.”

“I love you.”

My heart dropped.

I had been about to say the same thing.

But suddenly, my mind started racing—

Is it too soon?

How is this happening so fast?

Is it too soon?

And then—

What is time, anyway?

Who made these rules?

I stopped.

Because everything around me felt uncertain.

The world felt uncertain.

But this?

This felt certain.

He felt certain.

He made my nervous system hum softly.

And I knew—

I wasn’t going to let fear take this moment from me.

I wasn’t going to think about where this might go, or how it could go wrong.

I was going to live in it.

Fully.

So I leaned all the way in.

“I love you too, Buddy.”

It had been almost a year since that very first comment I left on an episode of Films to Be Buried With that featured his music.

Since then, so many things had unfolded.

From Brett Goldstein whispering to me in a dream—“Do the thing”— to talking on the phone with Buddy while Brett would be texting him about the podcast.

(That was a surreal moment.)

The kind where it feels like timelines are merging.

His words led me to writing.

To creating.

To building something of my own.

And somehow…

All of it led here.

To this moment.

And then—

It happened.

We fell in love.

Behind the Music

I had to. 

It's part of the experience. 😂

I figured since Buddy and I are both music nerds. It would only be fitting to title certain sections with songs that we added to playlists to send to each other. 

I am also a true believer that everything is better with music.

I will have a soundtrack playlist that you will be able to find on Spotify and Tidal. Or you can listen to it directly from my website.  I will send you all the info soon. 

Also, remember when I reminded you in the blog to remember 

“Buddy helped me remove the elephant from the bathroom.”

You can find out in the book why that is. 

Coming soon 

And remember

Music is Life 🎶

And 

Love Always Wins 💖 ✨✌ 🐘