Sabotaged by my Sub-Conscious Self
They say that dreams are a way of sorting out the events of the day. I wonder what in the world to make of last night's dream. It was a fairly happy dream where I was in a strange place doing various things. But then I walked into a bathroom where I heard water running. I remember thinking, "Strange. I don't remember running a bath." There in the bathtub was three year old son, Garnet, playing in the bathwater. Behind him, under the water, was Elodie, who had drowned and was laying there with her lifeless eyes gazing ahead of her. I started crying, "God! oh God!" as I grabbed her out of the water and attempted to get her to breathe. Then I woke up.

I hate dreams like that.