Dreams and Dad

I just woke up from my five-hour Sunday nap. I dreamt that we were having some kind of scavenger hunt in the church and I was partially responsible. There were 134 rooms available so almost everyone could sleep in their own room. And Tom Wolfe was there. I didn't realize it at first. I wondered who the guy in the white suit was. We couldn't find the Soderbergs and climbed over the fence to look in their house (which was really Davises' house), and Taylor was there playing the guitar. Then he turned into my cousin Mark with a really strange piano guitar with twisted strings, and he played a cool version of Pachelbel's Canon.


















Happy Father's Day, Dad, I stocked up on Skype minutes just so I can call you (the complaints about not calling on Mother's Day got to me, even though there was no way I could have called from Möhnesee anyway). There's nothing more anyone could ask for in a dad. You are funny, supportive, a hard worker, and dedicated to spiritual matters. I've always loved being around you. Now that I live far away, you pray for me and write the most diligently, which must be why I haven't had home sickness. What a blessing it is to be your daughter. I love you.