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I had a dream last night that I was living in Corning again, and Dad was picking me up to take me back home. We were driving down a street in a residential neighborhood, behind a nice black car. The license plate on the car looked like it was parchment with black Arabic letters on it. The person inside the car had a gun. He rolled down the car window, and shot a child of about 3 who was running around the front lawn of the house. The child flew about 3 feet into the air, and fell down onto the lawn, with a large bleeding hole in his head. The car sped off. Dad and I pulled over to the side of the road, and I had my cellphone out, trying to call the police. I was so upset it took me a few seconds to remember that the number to dial was 911. I called the police, and we were waiting for them to come when the child's mother came outside. She was holding the baby, who was sitting up, alert, in her arms, despite the large hole in his head. Apparently he shot him because it was some kind of "running" holiday in his culture, and he shot the first person he saw who was running. I don't remember much more until we got back home, and I was trying to unpack, but having a tough time because my cousins and aunt were visiting, and parked their boat in our driveway.
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