I am walking down a street in a gated community in Florida. There are tidy little bungalows with manicured lawns on either side of the street. I meet a friend and past colleague, a retired police officer. We stop and chat. He tells me he has something to show me, evidence from a case he was working on years ago when he was still on the force. I ask him why he still has evidence in his possession, he says the case was unsolved and he still works on it in his spare time.
He says it’s nearby. I walk with him through the streets of the community. I notice another former colleague at the front door of one of the bungalows. He looks like he is returning from playing tennis. We wave and keep walking. The street turns into a high school running track. The surface is red clay. I turn to my friend and tell him he’s moving well for his age, he’s probably up for a jog. He gives me a swat for being impudent, but we start jogging. I looks down and notice we both have bare feet, a moment longer and there is a thin layer of snow on the track. We continue running in bare feet, our footprints leave a striking trail of red against the white snow.
We arrive at a storage locker. My friend pulls a key from his pocket and opens the padlock. He rolls the door up, and a huge pile of toys appears. He starts sifting through the toys, muttering to himself, looking for something specific. I ask him if he used to be the Kindergarten Cop, or what? He glares at me, tells me this is important evidence, and disappears into the pile of toys.
I wake up.