July 6th, 2004

Artsy me - by Micha

Sibling love

There's something funny about dreams. If you've seen the movie Waking Life (or, you know, if you have an interest on this and studied it) you might remember that one part when a character explained why dreams seem so real. That is one subject I have great interest on: dreams. Dream interpretation too. Especially because I myself have such strange dreams. When I was a kid I used to dream about death and dying all the time. That stopped later on, but the dreams didn't necessarily get less weird.Collapse )

But I did have one especially odd dream recently. It was about my brother. The setting was basically reliving my goodbye dinner, which happened the night before I came to Recife from Curitiba. My family and I went to this italian restaurant I love, called Famiglia Fadanelli and had a very good time, even though there was an air of melancholy we all were trying to hide.

That's where we were in the dream, but having a conversation that never occurred. We were trying to decide what to do, since I was moving out and dad would be transferred to Rio in just a few months. I suggested that mom come to Recife with me to stay a while, then, when dad moved to Rio, mom would meet him there, then I'd be all settled in and adapted here with her help. My brother got very angry. He didn't want to be in Curitiba alone with dad, since my father is always very busy with work and wouldn't pay my brother that much attention. I apologized repeatedly, explaining that those two years in Canada away from him made me start not taking him into account in my plans sometimes. He hadn't come to Canada with us to stay here in Brazil with my aunt, he had many friends he didn't want to leave behind. I didn't, so I went, and told everyone I was an only child. After sticking to that for a couple of years, I was having trouble putting my little brother back in context.

I woke up shortly after that, startled and deeply confused. I felt love for my brother. That was a first. Real love. I must've sat on my bed for a good few minutes, remembering the dream, trying to remember what had really happened, until I could be sure again that no, I don't have a brother. He's dead. That dream conversation never happened. And, for the first time, I mourned for my brother.

It happened in 1995Collapse ), while my family was living in Fortaleza. On a trip to Recife, my parents and I went to visit some relatives in a near-by city and suffered a car accident. We didn't know mom was pregnant. She started bleeding the next day and thought it was just her period. A few days later, when we went back to Fortaleza, she was in so much pain she had to be taken to the hospital straight from the airport. She had an emergency surgery and her right fallopian tube, along with my would-be brother (or sister), removed.

I worried about my mother. I cried and prayed that she would be ok. I thought it was a bad thing that the sibling I almost had was not going to be born anymore, but I didn't really feel it. I had no feelings for that child. Possibly because I was too much of a kid to understand the meaning of what had happened. All I knew was that now mom would be ok and, yes, I almost had a brother, but then I didn't, and that was ok too. It wasn't until I had that dream that I really felt what I believe is the love between siblings. Not that I have any way of being sure.

Any Christians care to enlighten me on the hopes for the future for stillborns?