By Jacque White Kochak
A ghost has haunted my dreams for more than 30 years. He is evanescent and ephemeral, in the way of dream figures. Unlike most ghosts, however, today he exists somewhere, most likely balding, with a pot belly.
Long ago, I knew him well. His name was Tim—still is, I guess. He was a frat boy with a houseful of Beta brothers all bound for law and medical school. His daddy was a doctor, and the golden boy was on the same track. He had a loving family, with two sisters, a brother…
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talking to myself 
Thank you for the beautiful story.
I, too, as has my twin brother, been diagnosed as bipolar. My brother has more struggles with it than I. In another life, it drove my creativity. It drove me to unbelievable productivuty and world fame as an artist…also, periodically to the black pits of despair. However, (I don’t think), I have never swung to the extreme of psychosis and have never been hospitalized.
The Legacy lives on. One of my daughters has inherited the blessing and the curse, as has my son. Both have swung into the psychotic extreme. My son has been hospitalized for it once, my daughter three times. Both have made the firm decision to never procreate so as to never pass on the curse.
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