I’m with a large group of people. We’ve all just left out homes to try to find a new place to live. Everyone is carrying their children and personal belongings. We’re all wadding through swamp water that is above our stomachs. This was unusal because the swamp was inside of room with raftors running the width of the room and a series of chandaliers spanning the direction we were traveling, dangling just above our heads.
Despite the fact that we’ve all just had to abandon our homes, everyone seems to be in decent mood…
Suddenly alligators start surfacing from the dark, murky water. They begin picking people off one-by-one, pulling them below. We start moving faster as paranoia sets in.
An older woman, probably in her mid 30’s, is carrying her child on her shoulders only about 3 feet to my right just before the gator grabs her and aggressively wrestles her in place. Freaked out by what is happening, I did all I could think of doing; I pulled out my camera and began to take pictures of the struggle.
We continued to press forward until we reached the end of the swamp room. As we exitted, we were entering into a busy street beside of a tall brick building. Everyone dispersed into all directions as I continued walking on, towards the country club.
As I came up on the property, I walked inside in search of a bathroom. The stalls were designed like a maze. But I quickly found the urinal, did my business and walked out. As I stepped outside the bathroom, I entered into the dining room. The building was sitting on stilts and from where I stood, I could gaze out of the windows onto a baseball field just below me. I saw my father standing out there. So I walked out to greet him.
He stood by second base, catching baseballs with one hand and holding a sandwich with the other. The field was empty except for the two of us. So I thought was rather odd that he was catching balls that no one was throwing. He offered me the remaining half of his sandwhich, but I declined. So he set it on a sheet of cardboard beside his feet.