I dreamt I was an astronaut preparing to leave earth. Every moment seemed sweeter because I knew it might be my last seeing the ordinary times.

In a café, I saw someone heartbroken, finding comfort with a coffee and scribbling in a journal. I felt how much it means to love and feel disappointment.

In a restroom, I appreciated the friendly chatter between the women next to me as we washed our hands, talking about nothing important but with warmth and humor in the tone of their voices, amused by the details of life.

Under a bridge, I stood protected from the rain. I looked at the concrete underbelly construction with awe, impressed by the initiative and ability for humans to build great structures.

From a hilltop, I looked down over a lake where children swam. Their pale bodies looked like slim stars on a blue water sky. I heard their laughter echo up the hill. It was the happiness of summer and nature.

When I woke up, I thought, This is why we have mortality. All the ordinary holds sweetness because we will leave it.

I remember my dreams because of my brother. When I was a child, he told me about one of his dreams.

“How could you remember it?” I asked.

“You can remember your dreams if you want to. When you go to sleep tonight, tell yourself you will remember your dreams. And you will,” he said.

That night, I repeated in my thoughts that I would remember my dreams. I did. I have ever since, my whole life.

This month marks five years since my brother died of suicide.

Remembering my dreams is a gift he gave to me. God rest his soul.