I was in a large gymnasium, and I think it was maybe the Al Wheeler Center at Peru State College (in Peru, Nebraska). There was a basketball game going on in one of the courts, and I was behind the row of bleachers on one side. They were those big wooden ones that fold up, so all I could see was just a big wooden wall. I walked over to the corner. There was some sort of booth there, and I think it might have had some sort of view screen. I remember it saying something like "The Top Ten Worst [Something] Swimming Badge Photos Ever." This swimming badge was a patch issued by some sort of national organization to excellent swimmers. Apparently they took a photo when you were awarded your badge.

I looked at the list, and at number 7 or 8 was the name "Ann Blaine." I was like "Hey, I know Ann, and I can't really imagine her having one of the top 10 worst photos of this whole nationwide bunch!" I clicked on her name or something, however you accessed more info, and there was a short paragraph describing the situation. It said that Ann was a disgrace to the award, because she was a terrible swimmer. It said the only reason she got the award was because she volunteered to teach handicapped people how to swim, and the judges were proud of her. Then it showed the picture, and it really did look bad. But then I realized that someone had drawn stupid looking glasses on her face and scribbled a beard onto her and made her nose look long. I decided that the judges of this top 10 list must have had some personal vendetta against Ann.

When I had originally walked over to the booth, there were 2 or 3 kids standing around by the edge of the court waiting to retrieve any stray balls from the game that was going on. Well, when I turned around to walk back, there were probably 30 or so kids, maybe more, all hunched over to catch balls bouncing from the direction of the court. I thought that was strange, because there should really only be one ball leaving the court at a time, not the 30+ that were coming at us. I went behind a curtain and headed towards a back door.

When I got out, the AWAC looked like a big farm shed. In front of it was a garden patch, and on the other side of the patch was a driveway leading to the county road that passed it on the west. I know it was on the west because it was almost sunset when I stepped outside, and the road was in between the barn and the sun. Anyway, I saw a bike right next to me, so I got on and started to ride. The dirt in the garden, however, was very loose, so I just started spinning the back wheel. A friend of mine (I don't remember who it was, or if I really knew them) was standing on the other side of the garden, and hollared out to me that I was tearing up the garden and that I should get out because the groundskeeper was coming. (note: I was watching all of this from a neutral 3rd person viewpoint) Sure enough, the groundskeeper hobbled onto the scene (it was my Econ professor) and started yelling at me. I ran down the short path to the driveway and then southwards down the road.

I thought I ran, but when I got a ways away I realized I was on the bike. I knew that if I had the bike on me, they could pin me to the crimes of a) ruining the garden and b) stealing the bike. I saw that there was a red wooden fence along the west side of the road, and there was a 2 x 3 foot hole along the ground in one spot. I stopped and crawled through the hole and (somehow) squeezed the bike through. On the other side, there was probably a 10 foot wide area that ran along the fence north and south. Up north from where I was, there was probably an 8-foot square area of grown up corn. I hid the bike in there so that the authorities couldn't find it. As I did this, I explained what I was doing and why I was doing it out loud. I believe that there was no one else there at the time.

I stayed there, lying and watching the road through the hole in the fence. This was a solid fence--no gaps between the boards--so aside from the hole I came in through I was obscured. It had since become dark, and the streetlights shone down onto the country road. I could soon hear the sounds of sirens as the police were heading this direction. All was still on the road until I saw a boy wandering around hollering my name. As he got closer, I could tell it was my cousin Gavin. I got his attention and told him to hurry over to the hole. He climbed inside, and I explained to him how important it was that he didn't make a sound. He acknowledged this by loudly declaring "I understand!" Luckily the police weren't close enough to hear.

Soon, though, a red pickup truck pulled up beside the fence. There were three black guys in black suits with black shoes, white socks, black ties, and white shirts, also equipped with black sunglasses and black hats, and there was one white woman with long red hair in a grey jacket and skirt. One of the guys came up to the hole and told me to get out and get in the truck. As we rode along, they were very (verbally) abusive to the woman. I asked "Do they hate you because you're a woman or because you're white?" She didn't know. Thankfully they didn't seem to mind that I asked that in their presence. Apparently they were planning some sort of crime, and one of the guys kept going "I can't believe I got into this with you two...I should have never agreed to be your accountant." The one driving turned and said "But you are, so you WILL be a part of it." He drove to Brownville down by the Missouri River and parked the truck outside of a house that I was pretty sure I recognized.

We all got out of the truck. I walked away probably 20 feet and then turned around to see what was going on. I discovered from what they were saying that two of the guys were brothers--they were the ones orchestrating this crime that would take place. The other was the accountant, and the woman was simply a prisoner. The driving brother, the accountant, and the woman were all on the driver's side while the other brother was over on the passenger side. The accountant kept saying "I Can't be a part of this! This is rediculous, I'm only an accountant!" The boss brother said "Fine, you're not a part of it anymore" and shot the accountant. Then we all went inside.

It was Grandpa and Grandma Obermeyer's house! We walked inside and Grandma said "Did you just shoot someone?" The killer boss brother said that he did, and my grandma ordered him to get out of her house now. It was kind of funny, because I am used to her being a pretty quiet, reserved person. He did as she ordered though, and took his prisoner with him, but not me. I stayed at their house because I like them better. Another bonus was that my cousin Wade was there. He knew this area better than me because he had lived here all of his life. (according to the dream)

We went out walking across a hilly area where there were two huge red-brick buildings beig constructed. They were odd in the respect that they were being built in the fashion of Roman temples and palaces. Lots of columns and stuff like that, but all made from red brick. The smaller of the two, which was further up on the hill, was actually more like Medieval gothic architecture done in red brick. I asked Wade what those were, and he didn't know, but he said they'd been half-finished for several years now and that he didn't figure they'd be comlpeted anytime soon.

We continued walking over the hills until we reached a very very flat area which I presumed to be the Missouri River Valley, only it wasn't. It was actually a canal that was built in a very convenient place, as it did have probably 300 yards of perfectly flat green grassy land on both sides of it, leading up to rising hills. Over on the hills across the canal from us was another incomplete temple building. I asked Wade if it was possible to get across. The canal looked only about 6 feet deep, but the water was pretty fast. He said that when he was a kid, they used to jump in and straddle the tubes that ran across the width of the canal. I looked in the water, and there was a tube probably 1 foot in diameter stretching all the way across. It was like the kind of tube you'd find underneath your driveway if it crossed a ditch. I couldn't really understand why there'd be one going through a canal, but oh well. Wade then continued to say that if you're going to cross that way, you have to be very careful that the alligators don't get you. I laughed at first, figuring that had to be a joke. But then I looked back into the water, and sitting right beside the tube was a rather large alligator looking back up at me.

We went back into Grandpa and Grandma's house and told them that we wanted to have a picnic outside along the river. We grabbed some food and headed out along the gravel road that bordered the river. Along the road was a grass-covered sloping bank that had several "dip" areas in it which were perfect for picnic spots. We tested out a few until we decided that the fourth one was the best. As we sat there and ate, a grey Bronco that was parked along the river backed out and drove off. I saw the driver's face, and said "Ah, the Brady family must be here." I don't really know wy I said that, because it wasn't the face of Mr. Brady or any other Brady that I know. As we enjoyed our food, Grandma said "I am so glad to see people coming here to Missouri River State Park (possibly fictitious, I don't know). It has been in danger of being closed down for so many years." Then we all looked up at the Brownville River Bridge and smiled.

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