I had a lot of trouble falling asleep last night, but when I finally did, Ed came back again.  I had a dream that he was suicidal, and somehow, I managed to get him on a plane to come to New York to be with me. In the dream, we are walking in a big shopping center toward a sporting good store, and we take an elevator to the fourth floor. During this walk, he is calmly explaining to me how hopeless he feels, how he doesn’t see a way out of it. Through his words, I can tell that there is, in fact, some desire for him to truly want help. And I tell him this. I said, “Ed, it’s clear from what you are saying that you do realize you need help and want it. I’m going to help you. We are going to treat you right here. We’re going to find people who can help you, and you are going to live with us in the meantime.” He has an embarrassed look on his face, and he insists that it’s too much to ask and that our apartment is too small for all three of us. I insisted, and I said he could stay here as long as it was needed. I just wanted him to get better and be happy. He consents and nods his head, and I squeeze his shoulder as we disappear into sporting equipment.

I wish this really happened. I’m happy we are talking about this, if just in my dreams finally. We really need to talk, don’t we?