The porch began to creak under his wait as he lumbered toward me. Of course, I could
not actually hear it, for this was one of my many mute dreams. They had begun to cycle. Monday
night was the bear, Tuesday night was my brother, Wednesday night was my thoughts, Thursday
night consisted of all red, Friday night there was the birds, and the weekends...were nothing.
Monday with the bear was an easy night. He would come towards me smiling, paws outstreched for
a hug. Alfred the bear had been my childhood teddybear who my brother had "accidentally"
jammed into a paper shredder. Tuesday night was different. Clarence, my brother, had died three
years ago from a serious head injury. As he walked up the steps, he would shake his head at me,
frowning, and scolding me as if I were responsible for his death. Wednesday was my thoughts and
they came in a different form. The mailman came up to the porch, dropped a heavy bag onto the
steps and walked away. As I come to open the bag, the contents begin to spill out. They are
thousands and thousands of words.They came out in a flurry and surronded me, and then the
dream ended. Thursaday was red. Just red. That kind of dark red where you cant quite tell if its
black. Friday was the end and it was the birds. The birds flew around my white house and scattered
their feathers. On the weekend I was blank, nothing appeared in my dreams.


These dreams used to seem to tie to nothing, but now I understood. The bear was my
past coming back to say goodbye. Clarence, Clarence had come back to make me sigh, and
remind me not to forget him. My thoughts, were there to tell me I actually had NOT gone braindead
as my brother had. The red was the dark heart that had lived within me when Clarence had passed.
The birds shedding their feathers, was the sign that I must let go. When the weekends rolled
around and nothing was left, I began to remember what Saturday and Sunday had been like after
his death. I had felt alone, and nothingness.


That day when he had fallen, we had both been riding our bikes. The car came suddenly,
out of nowhere, and he fell like a twig onto the gravel. The hit had been bad and he had lost alot
of blood, and soon, he was not breathing on his own. He had always told us to just let him go if
something like this ever happened, so we did. Or rather we tried. Thats why the dreams had come.
To softly remind my he had been, and to tell me to let go. So I did. I when I did the dreams changed
to memories. Memories of Clarence and I laughing, and jumping on the trampoline, and singing
at the top of our lungs.

Then the dreams where done, and I gave in to the sweet relief of the end.