Dismembered Dreaming

In my dream my little brother seemed like such a grown up. It was like I was re-meeting him. He seemed taller and bigger than I remember him in real life, and blonder. And cleaner.
We were in a filthy filthy filthy house, not dissimilar from ones I'd seen him live in with other artist college boy roommates. There was an air of apprehension permeating, though, there was a sense of violence. I remember feeling like I needed to be close to Brendan. Did I ever say his name in the dream? I don't remember. I can't remember if I wanted to be close to him so I could protect him or if I could feel safe.
I remember body parts somewhere in the dream; in the street? That seems violent enough that it would have tipped me off to it being a dream, but it didn't.
I remember him being very tall, and very blonde, and wanting to be near to him and feeling very anxious when i couldn't see him, and either wanting to feel safe or to protect.
I woke up and I felt shocked after a few breaths when I realized I had been dreaming, and angry that I couldn't tell if it was really Brendan in my dream because it was so far out there.
In the moments before really being able to be awake, when I was suspended in that undefinable world, I thought that I wanted to believe in something, I wanted to BELIEVE in a faith, in a god, that could assure me that one thing or another was real, that something could comfort me and assure me or dissuade me from the uncertainty that that I have a connection with Brendan beyond the cells in my brain that have memory and that grieve so powerfully; powerful to the point of creating illusion. Grasping for that weaker option, for that easy out, made me more angry than the uncertainty.
This never gets easier. We are just accustomed to this pain now. I have trained myself how to breathe and too keep breathing when the wind gets knocked out unexpectedly. I have to remind myself, at times, just how strong I am. After waking up from a dream where there are body parts in the street and all I want to do is be close to my brother, I have to remind myself how much of a survivor I am.

One week from today Brendan would have turned 28.

Blueprint

I remember this pain. I remember this sadness, that permeates everything, that makes the sun less warm and the smiles confusing.

There are no cliches for murder trials. There was no blueprint of what-this-might-look-like when it's done. There aren't books to tell me how to get the crime scene images out of my head. There isn't an obituary in the newspaper that lets everyone know it's our tragedy, our time to grieve. We have to figure out this new pain, this re-run of our hearts shattering, this opened raw wound on our own. There isn't weeks to take off of work, there isn't a black armband to wear for a year, no black veil to let me people know to be nicer to us, to be quiet, to please be gentle.

I remember all the crying, the desperation, the unwillingness to accept the new normal and inability to comprehend the depth of the absence, the profundity of my loss. Laughter is tainted, everything feels heavy. I don't know if it should be better doing this now because it's familiar, but it feels worse, it seems so unfair to have to go through this again. I've said they can't kill him again, and they can't, but I am questioning my own spirits survival.

I might be actually in love with this man.

"You do have beautiful eyes, but I think my most favorite thing (or at least top 3) about spending time with you is the moment right after you start to tell me something and before you actually say whatever is on your mind. I realized it the second time I was at your house. You have a pattern - you start, then you pause and you think about it, then you say it. Every pause I got a flutter in my stomach and a mix of feeling like I wanted you to just-say-it-already and please-wait-another-moment, because the anticipation of whatever you were about to share with me was delicious. More delicious than coconut oil popcorn and the best brussel sprouts in the world.
I know we've only known each other a couple weeks, and have taken some quick and intense steps, and I think we're still within the time frame that either of us could just cut off the other one without too many hard feelings, and I can't say that I want this to go somewhere concrete - but, I know every time I drove to your house I felt really excited and really comfortable, almost relieved, like I was going home. And ever time I was there I didn't want to leave. And I don't want to be removed from your life."

There, now I've blogged about you.

I'm starting to think I'm not cut out for this online dating thing.  I like people too much.

To-Do List

11 Things Every Minnesotan Should Try in 2011.

Now everyone come visit me so we can check some of these puppies off this list.