This dream seemed laden with symbolism. I mean heavy. To me anyway. I was on my favorite rocks near Lynch Park. Rocks from which I’d once suggested my family cast my ashes, with or without Coast Guard permission. There, a few rocks down, Bill Moyers was conducting an interview. When his first guest finished, I began to make my move to invite Moyers to write for the journal. But strangely, on these rocks I once navigated so easily, I feared hopping the next daunting crevasse. So much so that I couldn’t scribble the handwritten invitation on my business card for Moyers. And quick as that, his next guest arrived. It dawned on me then that he was using the rocks as a backdrop for his show about religion and spirituality. And I’d missed my chance.