Dreams are funny things, aren't they?  This morning, I had one of 
the dreams I've needed over the past month, and I'm still reeling 
from the effects right now.

The dream actually doesn't ring in my mind as clearly as much as the 
message it brought me.  Just a few glimpses of a surreal landscape, 
my realization of having something akin to a dream-state, some woman 
who turned into a camel at will, and Kevin Spacey (I don't know 
why).  Most importantly, though, is the fact that my brothers--my 
younger brother Andrew, and my late older brother James (Jamie)--
were there.

Jamie died in a car accident a little over three weeks ago.  The 
last memory I have of him in my conscious state is his climbing into 
my cousin's car, saying "we'll see you over there" in his Emiko's 
Genesis T-shirt.  I never saw his body at the accident, where they 
told us the details of what happened.  Apparently, their car turned 
over while trying to avoid another car that cut them off.  My 
mother, also in the car, was injured but is currently doing well.

In the dream, I explored the landscape, its pastel colors and odd 
torrential occurrences awing me.  As I continued to walk about, 
there was Jamie, sitting on a bench with a bag in his lap--one 
containing things we eventually brought home with us on our trip.  
When I realized I was holding something, I put it in the bag and 
then grabbed onto Jamie for dear life, sobbing, weeping, just not 
wanting to let go, not wanting him to leave, not wanting to say 
good-bye to him.  And I eventually saw Andrew's arms hugging him, 
too, doing the same thing I was.  None of said a word; Jamie was 
silent as he held us in.  Deep inside, I knew it was a dream and I 
wanted to say my good-byes and my thank-yous to him, but they 
wouldn't come out.  I fully believe that Jamie knew exactly what I 
was trying to say, but I don't think I'll ever know.

Jamie was never a perfect person.  He was always restraining himself 
in a fit of awkwardness, in a manner that was charmingly clumsy.  He 
could have done just about anything he wanted to in his life, and he 
was liked or loved by just about everyone he knew.  I only knew him 
as someone who tried to be the best brother he can, which was about 
the only thing I can think of that he's done perfectly.  And that's 
why, when the dream ended, I grabbed as much blanket as I could and 
just started sobbing.  And, before I knew it, my younger brother 
came in and started to hug me and comfort me.

Dreams are funny things, aren't they?

I think that all this was some weird, cosmic way of him telling me 
that I was about to let go, to say goodbye to him.  You see, I was 
always happy to ride about on Jamie's proverbial shoulders, doing 
the same kinds of things he'd do--computers, Japanese 
animation/manga, music--and counterbalance them--computer music to 
his computer sound, the piano to his violin, and so on.  He and I 
supported each other in ways that go back as far as I remember--I 
used to scratch his back and grab his tissues, his water, his 
anything, and he would help me buy things I wanted and couldn't 
afford--the new Ghostbusters or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action 
figure when I was younger, or a game, programming book, or anime DVD 
in more recent years.  The three of us always spent time in shopping 
malls together; even Andrew, who had different tastes than we did, 
hung around with us as we went to computer shops, record stores, and 
the like.  We were brothers in the truest sense; we slept together 
on the same bed for many of our earliest years, we played games 
against each other and ran around in watergun fights, we used to 
snuggle with our Miniature Schnauzer Pepper together, we used to log 
on and play games against each other on our home network.

And I was asked to let go of the eldest member of our own, personal 
Holy Trinity.  I'd keep those memories as a souvenir of our times 
together, but I'd lose the real deal.

Would I swap those memories in exchange for my real, physical 
brother?  I don't know, to be frank.  Because without those 
memories, I can't appreciate that which my brother has done for me 
over these nineteen years.  I'm afraid that the Jamie I'd know 
without those memories he'd would become more of a friend than a 
brother.  And who would ever want to lose a brother?

I never actually said goodbye, but as soon as my younger brother 
stopped comforthugging and I stopped crying and started writing this 
essay, I began feeling more at ease, almost as if I had started to 
say goodbye to him.  I'm beginning to think that this is Jamie's 
super-ultra-nano-uber-cosmic way of saying "cheer up, everything's 
gonna get better" to me.

That's why, now that it's all over, I'm saying the following: 
Goodbye, Jamie, and thank you for every single minute that you were 
with me.  I may not have chosen the perfect role-model to pattern 
myself after, but I've had the perfect brother to help me along 
through life.

And so, I finally wake up.

Dreams are funny things, aren't they?

--Lawrence Pei-Jong Chu
In loving memory of James Jien-Jong Chu
b.10/29/76 -- d.8/28/00
Mentor, Confidante, Brother