Last night, I dreamt I was back home and browsing Whitney Houston songs on Spotify. As I’m scanning songs to add to a playlist, Ed comes into the room and I immediately run up and throw my arms around him. He hugs me back, and he says he has to go to work, but before that, he has to go to Sears. He is putting on his shoes, and I ask him to wait to go to Sears because I want to go with him. He says he can’t wait; he has to go now. Why? I ask. He looks around to make sure no one else is in sight, and he whispers that he has to go now, otherwise, our father will get angry at him for not spending enough hours at work, and he may not pick him up at work when he gets off late at night. I said to him that was was ridiculous. Of course he’s going to come pick you up! He has to! Wait for me? I ask him again. He doesn’t respond, and I wrap my arms around him tight and squeeze him again. I start crying and tell him I don’t want him to go without me. “Wait for me?” I can feel his arms around me holding me, but he doesn’t respond back.

I awoke from this dream this morning and felt miserable. I lingered in bed for another hour. I read some news, which included news of Beau Biden’s funeral. Many famous politicians were quoted, saying incredible things about this life cut short. Reading the article only made me feel worse. And in the background, Chris is on Skype catching up with his cousin, and they are laughing loudly. I’ve always known that when I hear laughter when I feel sour or upset, I tend to get infuriated by the sound. I hate hearing other people laugh when I’m in a bad mood. It just puts me in an even worse mood. Why should other people laugh when I feel miserable? I don’t want to hear it. I just want to tune it all out.

Since my mother is a Jehovah’s Witness, she doesn’t celebrate holidays since that’s against their religion. She officially converted when I was around 18, so since then, I haven’t been allowed to say things like “Happy Mother’s Day” or “Merry Christmas” or even “Happy birthday!” to her. However, we should note that just because she doesn’t celebrate these things on the day of, she still expects an acknowledgment of some sort, particularly in the form of a gift. My mother loves gifts. She just doesn’t want them on the day of Mother’s Day or the day of her birthday. Sometime around that date would suit her just fine. So this Mother’s Day, I did wish someone a Happy Mother’s Day, just not my mother. I also didn’t send a gift the week before Mother’s Day because I figured I would send one to her the week after. It just has to be around the day, right? Wrong. She was pissed. I called her yesterday after work, and she irritatingly asks me where I’ve been all weekend and why I never called. “Did you know that yesterday was Mother’s Day?” she said icily. “You never called!” Well, actually, I did call on Sunday, but no one answered the phone. They have caller ID, but she insists I never called and was lying. She’s always right, I guess.

You can’t be a part of a religion that refuses to celebrate holidays and then expect an acknowledgment of the holiday on another day and with a gift. That’s not really how religion works… or should work. Either be a part of your chosen religion and accept the things it forces you to do or live without, or be free and do what you want!

April 20 through 26 this year is Depression Awareness Week. I found out because I started following this Facebook page called Suicide Shatters, a group that seeks to raise awareness around mental illness and suicide. By following this page, I’ve actually learned a few things about depression and suicide that I’d never thought much about before, such as the fact that there’s still a large group of people out there who actually have either the nerve or complete lack of empathy to believe that mental illness is a big hoax, that people should be “left free” to address any “mental distress” that they may be experiencing.

I feel sorry for people who really believe this. It only reveals their lack of understanding of human experiences that are different than theirs. Empathy is a quality that most people don’t actively think about when they have to ask what they value in people. Unfortunately for me, every single day, it’s one of those qualities that is always top of mind given the experiences I’ve had. And because most people I seem to meet have little to no empathy that they outwardly and readily show, I guess it’s no wonder sometimes I feel so shut off from the rest of the world.

Last night, I had a dream that Chris and Crista were teasing me relentlessly, and not in a happy, fun way. It started out as cute and fun, and it immediately became vicious. They both had an evil cackle, and I gradually felt like I was resenting them. I began walking away from them, and their laughter only grew louder. They were laughing at me, and the laughter was not ending anytime soon.

While it wasn’t a pleasant dream and left me feeling annoyed when I woke up, I thought about how well the two of them get along and what they have in common and what they don’t. They liked each other immediately when they met each other, and they both have very important roles in my life. But I hope this never happens in real life.

Today, some colleagues and I threw a surprise baby shower for a colleague who is having her second child. Our colleague was pretty surprised and enjoyed the shower and the gifts, but she said she was feeling weird and needed to call her doctor. She ended up leaving the office shortly after the shower, and just three hours after the shower began, she gave birth to her baby boy. That was a close one.

During the shower, a few colleagues were poking fun at me, saying that “you’re next” when it comes to having a baby. I immediately felt disgusted and said it wasn’t in the near future for me. It’s not that I don’t want to have children. I definitely want them in the future, but my mindset right now is so far away from them. I like my life the way it is. I like waking up in the morning and thinking about what I need to do for work and for myself and for Chris. Having to take care of another human being feels very far away right now. I don’t want to be one of those people who just have kids at certain ages because “that’s the age” to have kids. My mom thinks that age to have kids was about two to three years ago for me, so in her opinion, I’m already past my prime. And this New York City apartment definitely does not want children period.

I was looking at wedding statistics in the United States today. The average bride spends over $1,500 on her wedding gown according to the Bridal Association of America. The average wedding photographer charges about $2,800. The average wedding in this country costs about $30,000. These costs only go up if you are in major metropolitan areas. I think last year, I read that in New York City, the average wedding cost is around $90,000. And of course, we’re getting married in a major metro area, so that doesn’t help out cost-wise.

A wedding dress can cost as little as $50 (if I chose a random white dress off the rack from, say, H&M), or as much as $50,000 for a big brand name/haute couture. It’s crazy how much money we are willing to spend on a dress that we will likely only wear once and for just a handful of hours. While I’m not willing to spend even a tenth of what the high end is, it’s still ridiculous how our society has brainwashed even me into thinking that a few thousand dollars on a wedding dress is acceptable, particularly given that most of the work is outsourced to cheap labor countries like India and China. I’m pretty sure the dress designers aren’t paying them a comfortable yuppie wage.

I saw Ed again in my dream last night. We were sitting in a brightly lit conference room once again at a round table, and this time, Crista was there with us. I’m sitting across the table, Crista on my left side and Ed on my right. Crista has no idea that Ed is there in the room with us, but Ed knows that Crista is there. “She doesn’t know I’m here,” he says, with a devious smile on his face. “She can’t see me!” I tell Crista that Ed is sitting at the table with us, and she looks at the table and then around the room and is confused. She says to me that she doesn’t see him and insinuates that she thinks I am hallucinating. I insist to her that he is there, but she just can’t see him because he won’t reveal himself to her. She gives me The Look that says I’m crazy, and she carries on with our conversation. Ed sits at the table patiently, listening, waiting for Crista to stop talking so he can speak directly to me.

The last time I saw Ed at a round conference room table, my therapist was there. This time, Crista is there with us. When my therapist was there, we all knew everyone else was in the room, but this time, Ed is hiding from Crista. I’m not sure what to make of this, but I think there’s something to be said that Ed wants discussed.

And now as I am writing this out, I am remembering that I started crying at some point in that room with both of them. It hits me that Ed’s presence in the room is only temporary, and that I will never see him in human form ever again. Whenever I see him, it will only be for a few moments, and then he will disappear and reappear in the rarest times. He will never be in the flesh again.

I was at one of Chris’s friend’s birthday parties last night, and an acquaintance and I were chatting about marriage, weddings, and how she feels “old” (she’s only turning 28 this year) since she’s not in any relationship and doesn’t see any person being a potential. She talked about her parents’ expectations of her, particularly since one of her sisters just got married and another is in a serious relationship. “Do you have any siblings?” she asked. I answered affirmatively and said I have one older brother. “Is he married already?” she then asked. I said, no.

I guess I wasn’t lying. I do have an older brother. He isn’t married. No one asked me if I had a living older brother. It’s always one of those slightly awkward questions because when it’s people I don’t know well who probably don’t need or want to know about my background, I try to stay away from revealing he’s gone for as long as possible. In one instance when I did reveal that he had passed away, some really inept person (who really did not know me at all) asked me how he died. That was not fun at all.

Last night, I had a dream that Ed was still alive, but I didn’t really know he was alive. I went back home, and suddenly, he’s back at the dining room table when I walk through the door. I sit down next to him and he brings up that he heard about the trip I’ve been planning to Montreal for our parents. “Can I come, too?” he asked. His eyes looked so sweet and innocent, and instantly I felt this incredible sense of guilt that I didn’t invite him. But how could I have invited him if I thought he were dead? I agreed immediately that of course he could come, and that I’d buy his plane ticket to Montreal that night.

I called Chris after this conversation, and I said that Ed wanted to come to Montreal, too. “Are you sure he wants to come on a trip with your parents?” Chris asked. “I guess he’s going to have to stay in our room,” I responded. I proceeded to go online and buy my brother’s flight.

We’re not actually taking my parents on a trip to Montreal, but to Vancouver, and the entire time I am looking at flights and trying to figure out which ticket to buy him, I think, how is it possible that he was dead for the last year and nine months, yet he’s back now? Is everything just the way it was before he died? How are we supposed to act and just be now?