My father's dream, 20jul08

My father called me up last week, to tell me about a dream he'd had. My father and I have never spoken of dreams. There were french doors and they opened and Abuelo was there, with his big grin -- we've all got it really it's the mark of my family name really -- and holding a little boy's hand, he turned to my father and says "mira que se parece a ti cabezon". My father was too shocked to say anything. Yesterday was all hectic and doctors and driving but in the end, everything was OK, and we got to hear the heartbeat again. tuntun-tuntun-tunun