I don’t get sick that often but when I do; it seems to really tear me down to an immobile mass of snotty disgust. The weeks spanning Christmas and New Year’s were no different. Because I had a sinus infection on the order of some out of this world magnitude, I had to take a ton of different over the counter and prescription pills. Whether it was the Sudafed, Amoxicillin, or the Motrin PM, something was giving me strange sleeping habits.

My money was on the Motrin PM. The Sudafed jacks you up like you are goof balls. The Amoxicillin gives you the runs. So by process of elimination, that leaves the Motrin PM. I don’t know what’s in this little magical pill but I can tell you that it will lead you to some of the most vivid, intricate, and confusing threads of dreamy reality you’ll ever encounter.

Each night that I took the stuff, I was on a journey to some strange building, hallway, or far off location with a strange set of colorful surroundings, situations and people. More often than not, there’d be common people and comforts spread throughout the dreamscapes. But overall, the environments were foreign and indiscernible. There was one night in particular that was the most surreal.

The following description is provided to the best of my ability and memory. As with any dream, it seems they’re most vivid and recallable immediately after you wake. As time increases, your recall decreases. Days have passed since the dream and now I must fight through the difficulties of poor memory. But while the details and descriptions of the context of the dream may be brief or incoherent, the feelings from the vision are as accurate as ever.

Most dream settings are difficult to identify. There’s just a feeling of being ‘somewhere.’ In mine, it’s a sense of being in what could have been a lounge of an airport, apartment, or luxury home. The recall of this is blurry except for the feeling of lavish appointments and a social atmosphere. I do remember it being almost theater-like with cascading seating.

Why was I there? As I meandered through the hallway leading up to the room I described above, there was a feeling of anticipation I couldn’t justify. I was expecting ‘something.’ The feeling of the airport started coming back as I saw my parents for the first time in the dream. There was a vague recollection of expecting them home from a trip. Possibly the reason for the feeling I was at the airport.

In a stoic fashion, my father was sitting motionless and upright in his seat as I entered the room. He acknowledges my presence but said nothing other than small nod of welcome. Come to think of it, there was no sound in this dream other than the faint white noise of multiple voices in conversation like you would hear in a lounge. Atmospheric background noise. In a row of seating in front of my father, I see my mother lying across multiple seats as if to make herself comfortable after a long trip.

And in front of my mother in the very next row is my little brother sitting upright perched across several seats. He was just how I remember him. Similar to my father, our eyes connect. But I feel awkward. Why are we here? Am I too early? That feeling slips away as we both acknowledge each other through a simple grin. It then becomes a euphoric state of bliss upon the sight of his grin. Reassuring and welcoming, my uneasiness is replaced with a sense of urgency. I need to get to him.

Access to the rows of seating in this lounge-like theater is from the opposite side of the room. So I’m forced to rush around the perimeter of the room heightening the anticipation. A feeling like I only had a brief moment. Like their visit was only a layover before their next flight. On the other side of the room, my parents recognize my enthusiasm and wryly smile in approval. And at that point, I have a voice and I ask, “Is this real?” out loud.

But I’m the only one who speaks. All communication is done through eye contact and body language. I’m uneasy again, needing an answer, needing words, needing reassurance. It never comes. I get to his row and my brother stands up and walks toward me. I’m sure he sensed my anxiety. With each step as he approaches, I’m worried about the finite nature of the moment. Like anything, dream or reality, it must end well before you’re ready for its finish.

Other than the white noise of other conversations, there’s no speaking again. Standing in front of me, my vision of him is the timeless memory of him being 24 years old. But he’s wearing something strange, something I can’t identify or recognize. I just know it’s different. Almost telepathically, his voice is in my head telling me that it’s OK for me to be here, to relax, and that he IS here.

And in an omniscient moment, I see myself standing within arms reach of my brother. A small tear drips down my left cheek as the vision begins to soften and become increasingly hazy with each moment. This reminds me of how finite our existence is. We are born to this life to pass on. It’s the product lifecycle that each day we grow closer to something else. Our obsolescence begins at birth. And that’s OK. I’m reassured by my brother.

I go to wrap my arms around him to give him the hug goodbye I never got to give and to thank him for the reassurance. But my arms swing through him like he’s an apparition or ghost. The haziness increase like a smoke machine and I’m uneasy again. The rest of the dream is all over the place and barely memorable.

And in what could've been hours or an instant, it’s over and I’m awake wondering. Did I just see my little brother? In a constant search for signs of more, we overlook the obvious. It’s right there in front of us baked into our finite existence. We never leave each other. That's the good stuff.