From my journal dated May 19, 2002:
I had a dream the other night. I so seldom remember my dreams that it’s odd I remember this one.
I dreamed we were at C.S.’s* house for dinner. She was upset with us for some reason and put all of us [our family] at the old kitchen table to eat while she sat at the dining room table with all the fancy dishes and crystal. She kept glaring over at us. Her family felt she was wrong and came to sit with us. I needed to get a drink so I started to go get one for myself, but then thought I should be polite and ask C.S.* if that was okay. She made some kind of really rude comment to me when I asked, and I punched my fist down into a glass bowl full of whipped cream salad and started choking her in such a rage.
I woke up…and realized what anger I have in my heart toward [people] in general right now for making US feel like the bad guys when we’ve done nothing wrong. We can’t help it that Jason died and that they’re all uncomfortable. Why are we paying the price? Why do they not support us? Why do they avoid us? People have a hard time being around us…and especially have a hard time coming to our home. It’s more comfortable for them to avoid us, but where does that leave us? Alone…and paying the price for something beyond our control!! No family, no church support, no support of any kind on a consistent basis.
We’re paying the price. How sad! And I guess I’m just really angry about it right now.