Prodigal Poet: An Ecclectic Offering on God, Shakespeare, and the Beatles

Almost two months ago I had a dream that was both familiar and unusual.  Since my Grandpa Clyde (my mom's dad) passed away in November of 1998 I have occasionally dreamed of him.  In my dreams reality most always spills over.  In my dreams I realize that my grandpa is deceased yet somehow I am able to see him, hear him, touch him.  Most often I embrace him and begin weeping, for the joy of experiencing him one last time, for the pain of knowing that it cannot last.  These dreams are a comfort for me . . . sure, a bit painful as well, but mostly comforting.  These dreams seem so real to me at the time that I wake up feeling as though I have gotten another brief moment with my grandpa.    The dream two months ago was much the same; I saw him, knew that he had passed, laced my arms around him, and wept.  He looked at me and smiled, in that calm, gentle way he always did.  I said a few things to him but he never said a word, only ...

My parents had bought me the book "The Shack" last year, which I read through fairly quickly. I'm not one to read too many books that are categorized as "religious," but this one was very different. I'm picky about books about religion and faith. Most don't really fit into how I view things, even though I am "religious" and have a faith. That's not to say that they don't have a place in literature, however. I know many people that enjoy that type. I'm just not one of them. I'm probably more apt to read scholarly texts on the subject. But again, I say, "The Shack" was different. It was real. It was authentic. It wasn't trying to fit into a mold of what someone thought a Christian book should be like. It was really an exploration of faith . . . a true exploration. I loved every part of it, including all three of the representations of God -- the three parts of the trinity. But the one I was most drawn to...