I woke up feeling more drained and depressed than when I
went to bed. Even with ten hours of sleep. I had a horrible dream. An
emotionally exhausting, physically aching, painful, soul-searing dream. My brother
is gone. And I miss him. It’s hard to believe some days, how this happened.
That this happened. In my dream, I was hit with the truth all over again. I
dreamed of helpful, caring God people filling the house: bringing food we
couldn’t eat, cleaning bathrooms, mowing the yard. I dreamed of anger and
frustration. I dreamed of shouting and crying. I felt the gaping hole as I
remembered his extra tight hug only hours before. I remember an empty space at
the table and it feeling like we were missing three instead of only one. I
dreamed of his red cup, bone dry from lack of use.
I woke up feeling more drained and depressed than when I
went to bed. Thus far, I have accomplished nothing with my day other than wander
around aimlessly, like a lost kitten. I have an essay due in two days and haven’t
been able to start. I have chapters of text that need read but the words blur
on the page. The sink is full of dirty dishes and the floors haven’t been moped
in a month. I hear my bed calling. I think I’ll answer.
-Cynic Ninja
