I had a dream last night that I met someone whose son was named Eric. I mentioned that that was my brother’s name and the whole room went silent. Oops. I keep waiting to dream about Eric, to see him again, but other than the other dream I’ve blogged about when he was dying, I haven’t. He appears tangentially, as a mention, but never as a star. Dreaming about him would probably be upsetting, but if it’s the only way I’m ever going to see him again, I’m ready. I think.
I recently cleaned out my bedroom which still contained some boxes from when we moved in 3 years ago. One of those boxes had a bunch of framed photographs that I hadn’t found any room for when we moved. Some of these were of Eric. I already had some pictures of him around the house, but now I have more. I do get to see him on a daily basis, but not walking or talking or making me laugh. I could see him doing those things in a dream.
I have always loved to sleep and loved to dream. Some said I shouldn’t go into medicine because of this. Having children has been the most detrimental to my sleep cycle, but I still manage a decent amount. I don’t go to bed in anticipation of seeing Eric, but someday I hope he appears as he was in life. I still need him in my life any way I can get him.
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