In sleep

I had kind of an awful dream last night. My aunt had an eating disorder. I'm not entirely sure which aunt it was - my mother has six sisters - but clearly she'd been dealing with it for years and was in really horrible shape. Something happened - she had a seizure, I think - and she looked awful, black and blue and misshapen. I can't remember much beyond that, except urging my mother to get her on a feeding tube and explaining there are two different types, ones that go through the nose and ones that go right into your stomach.

Obviously the dream bothered me because I'm still thinking about it. Eating disorders are so common, and it kills me to think that so many other people have gone through what I did - and often their experiences are much, much worse. I hate the thought that anyone has gone through that, much less a family member or someone I love and care for. And I know that some of my relatives have experienced an eating disorder, and I know that some of my friends have. I wish there were more that I could do.