I often wonder what my dreams mean–not that I usually remember them at all.  When I do, I figure it must mean something.  I’ve often puzzled over a dream I used to have about Sadie, my late and very beloved beagle–she was driving away in a beige Ford Fairlane, braking for a stop sign, while I pursued on foot, yelling for her to come back.  Instead, she signalled a left turn and pulled on out into light traffic.    She was quite a good driver, for a dog.  I was afraid, for a while, that the dream was a premonition of