_      Dreams are just dreams. The past is the past. The future might not be as we want. People aren’t perfected and will never be perfected. Life will be hard. We will lose ones we love. Sooner or later we will die. We can’t live forever. Even if we could live forever, we will still not be perfected. The stars will always shine. The moon will always glow. The rain will always be wet and the sun will always be hot. The fish will always swim. The birds will always sing. Babies will always fall on their first step. Alcohol will always hurt others who don’t even drink it. A drunk will always choose a bad choice. Fetal Alcohol Syndromekids will never understand right from wrong. Women will never stop drinking when pregnant. Drunks will never stop drinking and driving.  Soldiers will always fight. Poets will always write. The world will always spin. Things will not always make sense. Even life will never make sense. One day everything will stop; until then people will be people; animals will be animals; and alcohol will always hurt others and choices will always be choices.

_   My hands were shaking, my heart was racing, my eyes were fading, and my breath was getting shorter. My past is now my nightmares although they are getting worse. When your past haunts you this much you can't really forget it. The last time I had a good dream was in 2007. It was the middle of the winter; it was the night before my nephew passed away. I can live with my nightmares, but I can’t life without those I love. Can my nightmares get worse? I remember seeing Josh lying there on the hospital bed, denying that I lost the one that meant the world to me, wondering when he would be coming home? When will he be a father? Wondering if he'll be a good father? Will I be a good father? Knowing he won’t come home and also knowing he won’t be a father. It makes me feel sick knowing all this, but it kills me more not knowing if he is in a better place.

Seeing my nephew’s grave, hurts me because I have nothing to say. I never said good bye to him. Josh means so much, because he was like a brother to me. We did everything together, like riding dirt bikes and when we weren’t massing around, we were in the house playing videogames or outside playing football, one on one, or jumping on are bikes and going places. I was the last one to talk to him the day before he died. I told him I couldn’t wait tell he got home. Now I wish I hadn’t said that. Now I want to wait. Maybe if I waited he would be here.