On a bus trip to somewhere, I don't care where.
My brother was there,
  Not as nightmarishly as before.

I should not feel it to be strange...

We talked a bit, but distantly,
I asked a thousand things of home,
Why does my dream project on him a life as empty as mine?

He got to drive the bus on the way back from where we were going. Everybody on the trip filed into the church, and the seats were filled.

Does my old friend remember me?