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For the past year, I've had this recurring dream: My older brother Jeff comes back to life. I am panicked. In my heart, I know he is here on borrowed time. Strangely, I am the only person among my family or his friends who realizes that he will die all over again, in some new and horrible way. And there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.
I always wake up in the same state. Disoriented, helpless, filled with rage and ultimately so alone. Although it's been close to eight years since my older brother and only sibling was killed by a car while jogging on a country road, it's mornings like these that make me feel as if I'm hearing about the accident for the first time, numb anew. Jeff was in his twenties, a brilliant astrophysicist, newly married with an exciting life ahead. This wasn't supposed to happen...