My dream last night was a long one, and in two parts, and most of it was nothing but fun, memories, and things I wish could happen.
Except one thing.
My brother was killed in my dream.
Throughout the rest of my dream, I tried to act fine, but any time someone would look away I started crying and bawling. There was such a realness to it, and I felt the heavy pain in my heart throughout the dream, especially because in it, my own sister didn't know.
When I woke up, I was so d**n thankful to hear my brother opening his door and just using the bathroom; he's ALIVE! But I can't stop feeling so sad. The heaviness is still there, and I know that if he did die, it'd be worse.
Why do our minds have the ability to think such awful, terrible, or the worst thoughts when we're asleep?
It's not fair.
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