I was watching an episode of Forensic Files earlier about a murder that took place in Phoenix, Arizona. Not long into the show, it hit me that I knew exactly where the murder took place.

In the mid-‘90s, I was sitting in my SIL’s backyard chatting with my MIL. She told me that two houses down, a family once lived that had a few kids. The guy killed his wife in the 60s and buried her in the backyard. Then a pool was built over it or some kind of concrete slab. A daughter who was 5 at the time it happened ratted on daddy over 20 years later.

The only thing that was wrong in the story’s reenactment scene was that it showed a two-story house. Well, there are hardly any two-story houses in Arizona, much less on the street it happened on. I forgot the name of the street. Citrus Way perhaps?

The daughter had been confused about the difference between being asleep and being dead as a little girl. Plus the father, an alcoholic who was abusive, threatened her life should she ever mention what happened. She and her younger sister witnessed her father beat their mother to death and then bury her in the corner of the backyard from a bedroom window.

Twenty-seven years later, the daughter told her story to the police and they used a ground-penetrating sensor to hunt for any disturbances. When they found one that was about 6 feet long and 2 feet wide in the area the daughter said they would, they dug up the skeletal remains of her mother. Daddy then went to prison for life.

Last night I dreamed Tom and I were leaving the house on our bikes. The house in the dream had several cement steps outside the door, though. We were about to head out when Tom finished drinking a milkshake and said he wanted to put the cup back inside first. I told him to just leave it by the door but he wanted to get a jacket anyway.

We hopped on our bikes a minute later and took off down the street. The Twenties were having company and were gathered in the middle of the street for some reason. A little boy I knew in the dream to visit regularly was running around erratically and I almost hit him.

Then we pulled up to a mall. A kid on a tricycle passed me. I looked inside the glass doors and thought it looked like a bunch of young people might be fighting. Curious to see if a brawl had broken out, I asked Tom to watch the bikes while I went in to use the bathroom which was where the dream ended.