I was sitting in a house in Patriot. From where I sat, I could look through a window and see a neighboring house. An old man, dressed all in black, was sitting in the back yard of the house. The man seemed quite strange, as if he might be deformed or crippled; but I couldn't see him well enough to tell.

It wasn't long before my mother walked into the room. Slowly I began to realize something: my mother had killed the old man whom I had been looking at. Only it hadn't actually been an old man, but an old woman. After killing the old woman, my mother had buried the body in a shallow grave next to the old woman's house. The body hadn't yet been found, but now when I looked out the window, I could see people who looked like police down by the house, obviously trying to find the body.

My mother and I began talking about the murder. Eight or nine other people were in the room, so we spoke softly so no one would hear us. Still, I didn't feel comfortable talking there. I was worried that my mother might already be a suspect and someone might be using listening-devices to hear what we were saying. This especially concerned me because I was going to try to help my mother escape detection and punishment; it was conceivable that I could be accused of conspiring with her.

A young man dressed in a suit walked into the room. I immediately concluded that he belonged to the police department and that he was probably a detective. I thought he had come to question my mother and the other people in the room, all of whom were possible suspects. However, I didn't want my mother to talk to the policeman, and before he had a chance to say anything, I stood up and said that I was her attorney, and that she wouldn't be making any statements. The man immediately turned and walked back out of the room. I understood the significance of what I had done. By refusing to let my mother speak, I had as good as told the police that she was the guilty party. They would now know who had committed the crime and focus on her. But I still thought I had made the right decision. I was worried that if my mother had spoken, she might have said something incriminating. As it was, the police still had no evidence with which to convict her; they hadn't even found the body yet. So even if the police knew that my mother indeed was the guilty party, I stood a good chance of getting her off if the police couldn't come up with any evidence. Still, there was a lot to worry about, not least of which was whether I could somehow be accused of helping my mother cover up the crime. And as I looked over at my mother, my cause for concern increased. For now I realized it was actually not my mother whom I was defending, but Louise.

Louise looked quite pretty and sexy. She had a good figure clothed in a pastel flower print dress. She seemed very sweet and friendly; but I was extremely wary. I now realized how deeply I was involved in covering up the murder, and that it was possible that Louise had placed me in a trap so she could escape and I would be the one accused. The more I thought about it, the more certain I became that it was indeed Louise's intention to betray me, and to try to have me charged with the murder. But now I was so deeply involved, I just didn't know how to get out of it.

Dream Epics Home Page

Copyright 2001 by luciddreamer2k@gmail.com