. . . And I was. In the dream, my anxiety turned to desperation as I walked into the retreat center hoping beyond hope to see Father Moe sitting there waiting for me. Instead, what I found was a room full of empty chairs at empty tables in a place where there had been no signs of life for many years. Dust and cobwebs covered everything, and death was all around me. I came face to face with the stark reality that the life I knew before prison is gone. There was no place for me anywhere. I didn't understand what Father Moe had done. I may never understand it. . . .