Today, I was talking to my brother about a funny dream my sister had about my mom a while back. He told me about a dream he had about my mom the day, he later found out, she was cremated. In it, her eye sockets were empty and she kept saying “why did you let them do this to me?” Why?. My sisters dreams and mine have been relatively pleasant compared to that.
His description was upsetting enough that I’ve been avoiding sleep.
See, I had thought about her wishes not to be donated to science. We sent her to a facility that would teach prospective doctors medical procedures. They were very clear about how they were not going to harvest any part of her. She’d be cremated after the research was complete. I wished I could have done better for her. I still do.
After what my brother said, it broke my heart and made me restless.
So, I started smoking. Half a bowl and a few random songs into writing this post and I’ve had some time to think.
My brother is bipolar. His dream was that bad because the guilt he held onto was extreme. At the time, I was able to think rationally about the situation enough to know it wasn’t my fault. I’ve calmed down in the process of writing this. I’ll be able to sleep. (Funnily enough, weed clears my head on nights like this)i
‘m so unfamiliar with how the brain of someone with bipolar disorder works, but I’m starting to get the idea. I wish there was a way my mom could reach him. He blames himself for so many things. One thing I’m trying to remember is that my brother’s moods and thoughts should not affect me. It’s very hard to do considering I’m extremely sensitive to the moods of those around me, and I still value my brother’s opinion to an extent.
Thank goodness for writing, weed, and music. And Tumblr of course.