I have three brothers. I dreamt about two of them, one that I see and talk to occasionally and the other that died several years ago. The one that wasn’t in it, I see and talk to maybe once a year. Not that I don’t want to, it is just a long story that I don’t want to explain at this time.
I recall vague images and impressions from the dream that left me restless and sad. I wouldn’t call myself a bad sister (or daughter for that matter), but I also wouldn’t say I am a good one. There is no doubt that I love them, but I also don’t let them into my life very much. Maybe it is the holidays drawing closer that made me dream about them. It seems like the more years that pass, the smaller my family gatherings seem to be.