Dream

Posted on February 11, 2009 in Dreams

I’m driving my father around San Bernardino. We’re looking for a street called Sierra Way ((Sierra Way actually exists, but not like in my dream)) . Sierra Way, I explain to him, has an unusual problem because when it rains the drainage system has been engineered to shunt all the water through it. This makes it a bad place to buy property. Evidentally we have acquired some. To get to it, we have to maneuver through a series of streets fronted by square buildings decorated with Victorian geegaws and Baroque scrollwork. My mother greets us at the door of the house where we are due to live ((She is younger than I am — in her thirties or early forties at worst)) . I tell her about the problem and she explains that we have only leased the house until something opens up around the corner.

There’s been a murder on the street in front of our house. It’s my duty to solve it because the police are incompetent. So I start wandering the nearby streets, seeking clues. As I pass a very upscale grocery store, I notice a park where some men are playing basketball. I go there. The contests are curious: several different games are happening using the same hoops. I find a couple of men who were there when the crime was committed, but their accounts are vague and one of them seems afraid. I deduce that the son of an important person — a lanky blond with a full beard — is involved. When I go back to the scene of the crime, leading my witnesses, I must pass through a ornate lobby with crystal chandeliers and climb a set of crystal stairs to get back to the street where the grocery store stands. I call my wife and beg her to come back to me.