Sad from SFU

Watched the latest episode of Six Feet Under last night. As I blogged last week, the previous episode ended with the sudden passing of arguably the major character in the series, Nate. This one focused on how Nate's family and friends dealt with the funeral and other aftermath of his death, each in his/her unique way. Here's a good review if you're interested.

Like last week's episode, the latest was a masterpiece of writing, acting, and direction.

Unlike last week's, this one hit me and Debbie too close to home. Much too close.

Maybe because Nate's mother, who was absent and unreachable during his illness and death last week, was central this time around. Or maybe it was a cumulative reaction to both parts of the story. Either way, what last week struck just the right balance between reality and escapism, this time dragged us deeper into images and memories of our true nightmare. Sort of the difference between a roller coaster and an out-of-control skidding car.

I had bad dreams all last night, and am still sort of a wreck today.

Why do I do these things to myself? And why, despite last night's experience, do I suspect/know that I'll be back watching next week?