I dreamt I married the wrong brother. I’d lived an entire lifetime in the dream world, fallen in love with the adventurous handsome brother of a pair of brothers. The younger, lesser brother was our constant companion throughout an adventurous youth. I was happy with the handsome brother, we were in love – I knew he loved me.
As we got older we spent less time on our adventures. The younger brother was still a constant companion, a friend in times of need, always available, kind, complimentary, and always on his own. My husband the handsome brother would go off on solo adventures more and more often, but I was not concerned. I always had the company of the younger brother to entertain me.
One day when the handsome brother was away, I found a scrapbook journal the younger brother had been keeping throughout our lives. Clippings from trips and events. Memories from our many worldwide adventures. I read his journal entries and learned that the handsome brother, my husband, had carried on countless affairs. A good hearted man, a loving husband, but incapable of being the man he tried and wanted to be. I had lived my life content with his half-presence and realized only now after reading the scrapbook journal that it was the younger brother who had been my partner in life after the youthful love affair with the handsome brother. I realized he was not the lesser brother, he was as handsome and smart, as adventurous, and silently, unwaveringly devoted.
I sat in the chair next to his and saw the sadness in his face that I should have read his journal and found out about the hidden disappointment of my life. I knew he had planned to give up his chances of fulfillment if he could maintain mine for me. I took his hand and I thought, “I have married the wrong brother.” I saw two divergent paths leading away from that moment. One with him, one without him. The dreamtime moment froze. “I have married the wrong brother.” I thought, “And I don’t know what to do.”