"Wake up! Wake up! He's alive! Go get him! He's really alive!" I was screaming this to my conscience self in my dream. He was there. I saw him. He told me he had been quarantined for 12 years because of a rare disease that he had contracted and the government claimed him dead. And he was there. Standing in front of me and ready to embrace me and my small, beautiful child. "Wake up! Go get him!" I kept trying to rouse myself from the dream. I yearned to touch him and hug him. I had to go find him. My daughter would have her grandpa after all and I would have my dad. And he was really there until I opened my eyes and found myself staring at the wall and he was gone. Logically, I tried to determine whether or not my father really could be alive stranded somewhere, but it was only a dream. And he wasn't really there. "Where is he?" I pondered this for several minutes as I situated my inconvenient belly closer to my sleeping husband to feel his warmth. My sweet baby seemed to know the answer as she continuously kicked and flipped around within me. And I thought, "Yes, she would have her grandpa for a little while longer, and in time, I would have my dad. And he will be there ready to embrace me. But for now, I have my sleeping angel here and I am happy. Yes, I am happy right here."