No analysis needed.

My dream wouldn't have even stumped a fledging therapist.

Apparently, even in my sleep, I try to make things easy for myself...

I believe in dreams.

I believe in signs.

I believe in paying attention.

I accept that there are things I don't understand, that the concept of time is relative and that the boundaries of time may be permeable.

In my dream, the night before Andy died, we were driving in a van (what else?).

We were headed toward a National Park neither one of us had ever been to before - and his excitement about exploring new territory was palpable.

From a distance, as we approached the park, we could see two figures standing by the entry sign.

One was Don Moccasin; the other was Bob Skinner, a beloved friend and our former Rector - who died 12 years ago.

Andy and I were amazed to see them together but, almost immediately, we started laughing at the idea of Bob being in a National Park.

Bob was many things but an outdoorsman, he was not.

His idea of roughing it was having to walk down a long hallway at the Ritz to the ice maker when room service was too busy to bring it up!

Andy remarked, "There must be a 5 star lodge with great food, smooth scotch and featherbeds in this park, or else Bob wouldn't be here".

We were still laughing when I realized Andy had pulled the van off to the shoulder of the road. As I turned to him, he said "Babe, this is where you get out".

The next thing I knew, I was standing alone at the curb, watching him drive off - way too fast, of course; a little pissed (OK; more than a little) but mostly curious about how the hell I was going to get back without a vehicle!

Then the light dawned and, even though I was still sleeping, I got that this was about Andy dying and there was only so far I could go with him.

I woke up - wanting to cry, yet grateful for the image of two important friends waiting for Andy to arrive at his next destination.

I'll bet, after a good meal and a good nights sleep, he's exploring already.