Guggenheim

I dreamt of my grandmother, knocking on the door. She was lightheaded again, and I helped her to the bed.

I dreamt I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen to grab something quick for her to eat. My dad was there, making a drink.
I dreamt I turned around and saw my mum (a little confusing), she asked me if I didn’t expect to see her there. 
I dreamt my brother drove up to the backdoor so we could get to the clinic. 
I dreamt I had something to eat, then panicked about it because I was breaking my diet. 
I dreamt I met his family (even though I don’t have a clue what they look like). His mum was nice to me.
I dreamt everything was alright again, and we all went back to the hall.
Hopes. Fears. Expectations. 
The many things that must be on the back of my mind. Things I try my best not to pay attention to.
I dreamt I saw my mum and dad hugging. It felt awkward that they weren’t awkward with each other. Heck, it felt awkward that they were within reaching distance of each other.
I still fail to see the purpose of dreaming. It’s all this false happiness/fear. Then I wake up, and nothing, not one thing, is any different. My feelings get jumbled up and tossed around for no purpose at all. 
Why can’t I dream of candyland or some shit like that? 

After all, it’s way more realistic than me waking up at home to a family again -_______-“

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