Message in a Bottle

This evening, Doug was going to take Wyatt and the babies to Oma and Opa's house for an hour so I could catch up on some schoolwork. (I've been dealing with a nasty virus that got past my 2 virus protection programs, so I'm a bit behind.) So, darling child that he is, Wyatt climbs into his seat, realizes he has a poopy diaper, decides he doesn't like it, then PULLS THE POO OUT and puts it in his carseat. When Doug comes in (with Wyatt in tow), he says, "I have a hypothetical for you. What would you do, hypothetically, if a kid pulled poo out of his diaper and put it in his carseat?" Hypothetically? Do I honestly believe my husband could come up with a scenario like that on his own? And to think I'll be going through these same potty training scenarios in another year or so with 2 at one time.....I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that.

On a more interesting note, last night I took the first sleeping pill since my pregnancy because I just haven't been sleeping well of late. And, I dreamed of my grandfather who died 2 years ago this November. I don't dream of people in my life who have passed on, so this is a rarity. I forgot everything before I saw him; I just know he walked in out of nowhere, dressed in slacks and a button-up shirt, and I ran to give him a hug. Somehow, I knew we had little time to talk, and I immediately asked him if he knew I'd had twins. Then, as an afterthought almost, I asked if he knew about Wyatt. Yes, he said he knew about all of them.

He only said three short phrases--once when I hugged him and once after each of my questions. I thought to myself, "I must remember everything he says so I can tell my family." And I also remember telling myself, "This is a dream. He's dead. This is not real" and upon thinking that, instantly waking myself up, struggling to remember what exact words he said only to feel them slip away like water through my fingers.

I don't know if dreams are just dreams, if they're merely workings of our unconscious mind, or if there is something more at work there. Sometimes, I think there's something more to them. Is our unconscious connected to our soul? To the Spirit of God who resides within us? I'll never know this side of eternity, but that brief "meeting" in my dreams last night felt different than any dream I've had in years. It felt like a message sent to tell me that my grandfather in heaven knows of his great grandchildren. Maybe not. But food for thought, nonetheless.