It’s like my subconscious is awakened when it knows I’m heading back home to San Francisco soon. For the first time in ages, I dreamt about Ed again. And this dream was not a pleasant one. It was like the dreams I had for the months after he died 11 years ago where he kept dying and killing himself in different ways.

I dreamt I was back at my parents’ house, and I thought I was home by myself. I went into the bathroom, and there was a large baby bathtub suspended above the regular bathtub. But it was weird because I could see a pair of legs under the baby tub. I moved the baby bathtub to reveal my brother, face up, eyes closed, half drenched in water and unconscious. He was wearing the Ed Uniform: long white-sleeved shirt, beige khakis, and black zip-up jacket, no socks. I screamed, grabbed and shook him, and asked him to wake up. He was completely unresponsive. I ran to grab my phone and call 911.

I woke up abruptly at about 3am. I felt sweaty and extremely irritable. Just a few hours before, I had woken up, asked Kaia if she needed to pee while she was still asleep. She clearly was fast asleep. But within seconds, I heard “ssssssssssss” — the sound of her peeing right onto her waterproof hospitable blanket mat. Great. I ran to soak up as much pee as possible. When I asked if she wanted to pee, I meant… pee in the potty.

I hate those dreams so much. It always is a reminder to me of how powerless I was in Ed’s desperate situation, how powerless I will continue to be in the constant miserable state of my parents’ lives. It’s like the theme of my family life with my parents and Ed: powerless, always, with nothing humanly possible to do to help.