Only in My Dreams

Last night, I dreamed I was taking the El train through West Philly with my brother.

I don't know why, that's not something we ever did when he was alive.

Anyway, we were on a semi-crowded car but we still got seats together.  We rode along, holding hands with my head on his shoulder.

I don't remember the last time I held his hand.  It was probably in grade school with me dragging him home for lunch.

As the train plowed forward, the neighborhood got worse and worse but I wasn't scared.  I felt very peaceful.

He looked like the man he would have become if he had lived.  I looked younger and more carefree like the girl I was before he died.

Eventually, the train morphed into a bus and Tom got on.

It seemed like they knew each other although they never did.  It seemed like they liked each other which they definitely would have.

Jon got up to give Tom his spot and they did that hand shake/clasp-y thing guys do.  Then Jon went to sit a couple of rows in front of us.

He sat sideways and spread his long legs out on the seat, resting his head back against the wall and staring off into space with a small grin hovering around the corners of his mouth.

Tom chatted and I heard his voice but not his words.  I was distracted by watching my brother who would occasionally look back and wave.  It was a familiar gesture, his wave, that I knew right away even though I haven't seen it in so very long.

I guess I woke up at that point.  I don't remember the dream ending.

I don't know where we were going.  I don't know why he was old or why I was young.

Where were my children and why did my subconscious leave them out when it's my greatest impossible wish for them to know their uncle?

I never dream about my brother.

I'm glad.

It's too hard to wake up to reality without him.

I never want to sleep again.