I Have a Brother

A story by Angela May

I lived and I died and my parents didn't even know that I was there. My mother miscarried me before she even missed a period. It is something that does occur quite often but no one knows how often. After all, how do you count something that you don't even know happened?

I am fortunate though because my mother has a unique talent. She has dreams that are messages just for her. She doesn't talk about it much because she knows that people will think she is weird. She's only had a few of these dreams over the course of her life and they only come to give her very important messages. She dreamt about my father a few months before she actually met him and it took about a month of dating him for her to finally recognize that he was the man in her dream and that she was supposed to marry him. It was another seven years before they got married. My mother says that she has always loved my father deeply but in times of self-doubt, love isn't always enough. Remembering the dream she had about my father helped her to put aside the doubts and focus on the man she loved.

On the night that I died, I visited my mother in a dream. She saw me being carried away from her in the arms of someone she didn't know. She saw me as I would have looked, had I lived. A little girl about four years old. She saw my dark curly hair with just the right amount of curl; the way she always wished her hair would curl. She saw my blue eyes; the same color as her eyes. I called to her "Mama" and reached my hand out. I saw that her heart was breaking. She wanted to come to me and hold me. She was sitting with my father, but he was unaffected by what was going on. Outside the dream, in real life, he was unsure that he wanted children and he was completely unaware of my existence. I know he would have felt differently if I had lived. Something told my mother that she couldn't come to me and that I couldn't stay with her. She understood that but she didn't understand why.

My mother shared her dream with my father after a few days had passed and she could talk about it with out crying. My mother thought that the dream was telling her that she had a daughter waiting to be born and it was time to have children. My father was not ready for children. Years passed and my mother often thought of me and wondered if she would find me. She searched for me online in the pictures of children available for adoption. When she visited other countries she looked for me in the faces of the street children who begged for coins from the rich American tourists. Sometimes, my mother thought the dream was telling her that she had lost her opportunity to be a mother because she selfishly waited to have children. Not being "worthy" to have children has been a fear of my mother's since she was a child. It is an unfounded fear but it plagues her nonetheless.

Time has a way of softening people and changing their perspective. It has been six years after I lived and died and my father has come to appreciate the joy and struggles that enrich a life when one has children. He and my mother were talking about having a child and trying for a child. They were nervous, excited, frightened and so much more. Then one day my mother felt nauseous and her pregnancy test came back positive. They were going to have a child!

It took a while for the reality to set in but soon my mother and father began talking about "when the baby comes". During the first ultrasound, the embryo sac showed plainly on the screen. However, it was small for seven weeks and no heartbeat was detected. Maybe the calculations were off and the baby was actually younger than seven weeks. Still full of hope my parents waited another week to give the baby a chance to grow. Two days shy of the doctor's appointment, there was spotting and the doctor was called. "It could be nothing." My parents were told "Come to the doctor's office in the morning."

My mother had a dream that night about a little boy with thick sandy blonde hair that reminded her of her father's thick hair. She held him tight because she knew he couldn't stay. He looked into my mother's eyes and she saw the close resemblance to my father. Her heart was breaking again. My father was also in this dream. Though silent he stretched his arms around his wife and son and held them tight. Then the dream was over and my mother woke to find she had indeed miscarried again.

The day ahead was long and painful. They had to visit the doctor to ensure that my mother would be OK. There were a lot of tears and now the reality of a lost child had to set in. As my mother pondered the dream she had of the little boy, she began to feel that it was her son saying goodbye and this brought her comfort. My mother believes strongly that the soul does go on after this life and she immediately felt that her son, though only a few weeks old, would go on and would one day meet her after she passed out of this life.

It didn't take long for her to finally understand her dream about a little girl with dark curly hair so many years ago. It was not a dream about a lost child to be found or a warning of dire consequences for postponing children. The dream was just her daughter saying "I am here, I am your daughter."

You may be sceptical that any of this could be true. It isn't scientific or based on any real evidence. It doesn't matter, my mother knows in her heart that I exist and I have a brother.

Introduction to Another Day in Paradise

I think I've mentioned before that I'd like to try my hand at writing. The "Another Day in Paradise" is based on an idea that some fellow co-workers and I have been joking about for some time. It's like the Office Space movie in a Broadway Musical format.

Honestly, I'm not sure it's any good. My husband read it and only laughed at the part where I used a swear word. Yes, I'm breaking my own rules. But, it isn't used meanly or crudely so I indulged.

My husband also wouldn't say much about his thoughts. I think he is afraid to hurt my feelings. I can understand his dilemma because if he hurts my feelings he has to live with me until I get over it. So, he'd much rather that I hear from the people on the blogosphere that my writing stinks.

So, I'm asking. Don't hold back tell me what you think and if you have any suggestions for improvement. That's what I really want to read!

Thanks all!

Another Day in Paradise (The Musical - Scene 1)

You are sitting in a theater on Broadway (of course), the other patrons are slowly making their way to their seats. The lights begin to dim, signaling the start of the show. There is still no rush to settle down and noises of people finding their seats continue as the music begins. Annoyed shushes are ignored as people persisted in chatting and laughing with their companions. The curtains rise and one by one the remaining silhouettes disappear as people finally take their seats.

The music starts slow with a heavy beat that is reminiscent of a funeral march. Not exactly what you expected from a musical called “Another Day in Paradise”. The dimly lit stage enhances the mood of despair created by the music. The stage is set as a series of partitioned work areas common to the modern offices. Faceless workers shuffle on stage muttering what might be words of greeting to each other only without any sincerity. One worker in particular is dressed in long black robes with a hood covering his head. The music swells and the beat picks up. It quickly starts to more resemble a swelling buoyant song that might accompany a dance number. At that moment the robed worker throws off the robes and jumps atop a nearby chair. He belts out the words “It’s just another day in Paradise!”

“Life is grand, when you’re in command!”
“Workers snivel at your feet and you know that life is sweet!”

The other workers are frozen in place hesitant about what to do next. The beat of the song is contagious and one worker is surreptitiously tapping a foot.

Two more robed workers stroll quickly on stage, throw off their robes and continue the song.

“Yes, it’s another day in Paradise”
“When you’re friends with the boss and you know he won’t get cross!”

The first robed worker (minus the robe) continues on.

“In my Paradise, everyone thinks I’m nice.”
“I have a motivational program to show how good I am.”

A banner above the cubicles unfurls it reads.

Scott Hammond Information Technology
When you have technology troubles call SHIT

In a non-singing voice the singer says “That’s me Scott Hammond, this is my company!”

Continuing in his song, Scott glides around the stage. The two other formerly robed workers have gotten everyone dancing around Scott.

Scott: “And it’s just another day in Paradise”

“Another day in Paradise” reply the workers throwing their hands into the air.

Scott: “Life is grand, when you’re in command”

Workers: “When you’re in command”

Scott: “I answer to no one and life is fun!”

Workers: “Life is fun!”

Scott: “Everyone is happy because they work for me!”

Workers: “We’re happy because we work for you”

As the final words slip from the lips of the workers someone shouts “Not!!” The Scott character stops mid glide and swirls around. “Who said that?” The workers are suddenly sullen. Scott picks up a stray umbrella and begins hitting the workers. The two formerly robed workers are quick to grab escaping workers and push them back towards Scott where they get whacked with the umbrella. Finally, all the workers get past and huddle at their desks in the background. Scott glares angrily at the workers with his two helpers on either side.

Finally, Scott twirls his umbrella with a broad smile and sings one final phrase “It’s just another day in Paradise!!” He contentedly strolls off stage while the two helpers remain clapping profusely. They then turn to the workers and busy themselves reviewing work and scolding the workers.

The curtains slowly fall over the scene.