In these past nine months since Hans drove to the highway, I have dreamed of him only once.  I had this dream shortly after he left us and it was very brief.

In my dream, Sunday worship had just concluded and Hans was standing with a group of men outside on the lawn in front of the church.  I did not recognize any of the men.  I could tell they were all engaged in a conversation of some depth and import.  Our youngest son, Noah, was there in the group, too, at the edge, observing and listening, but not really a part of the conversation.

Hans turned to look at me.  His expression said, “Don’t worry, I’m fine.  I can’t go home with you.  This is important.”  He smiled a happy and reassuring smile, waved, and then turned back to the conversation.  He had no desire to leave this group of men and I sensed he knew I understood that he was exactly where he was supposed to be, that it was necessary for him to remain.  He was not hungry and wanting to get home to spaghetti dinner.  He was not interested in anything but what was being discussed in this group of men.  He was very calm and serious, clearly comfortable with these men and very interested in what was being said.  Noah then walked away from the group of men to where I was standing.

End of dream.

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