Dream: I was teaching photography at the local university again. Studio space had increased to spacious proportions. We wanted to photograph one of our students in a pile of identical children’s drawings. By the time we got set up, the children’s drawings had been replaced by fruits and vegetables, and were in a giant tray.

I left for the day, but regretted not leaving a note for the other professor, who wouldn’t understand why we left the studio the way we did.

In the morning, I realize that I am late, and that for some reason I have left all my digital cameras at home, and only have my old film-based Nikon FMs. As I try to figure out if I can get my film souped, I remember again I am late. I call to tell my class that there is a “signal 82” (accident with injury) call on the scanner. For some reason I have two scanners, one of the them tuned to the college police frequency. On it I hear a dispatch for the signal 82, at the student union.

I arrive just in time to see a blue semi laying on its side. Just as I raise my camera to shoot, we hear a scream from inside of, “Nooo! Nooo!”, followed by an explosion. I photograph the fireball and smoke plume.

As I walk back to my car, I am joined by three members of a street gang, each of whom is carrying about six assault rifles of various makes. I am also joined by a police officer on the other side of me, who is asking questions to determine if the gang members are carrying any concealed weapons.

As night falls, Abby and I see on TV a detailed reenactment of the explosion and fire from the driver’s perspective. He was apparently a snitch who was being silenced.