I dreamt of my brother last night. I don’t very often these days. Twenty-five years dead now, longer than he lived.
In the recent dreams he appears not much older than he was when he died. But that’s the thing. He didn’t actually die. He disappeared. It seems, in these dreams, that he didn’t want to be with us (the mad mother, distant father, malfunctional sister) and retired out of our sight, beyond our reach.
It’s not clear how I get to see him. Does one of his friends bring him to me? do I find out he’s still alive and seek him out? He hardly talks when we meet, distant and slightly ill-at-ease. Retired so far from contact he hardly knows how to communicate.
I try to persuade him to come back again to see my father whose pain still knows no bounds but even as I do so I know that I shall never see him again.