I’m somewhere, walking on a sidewalk alongside a brick road lined with nothing but hostas…but purple hostas. There are hostas everywhere, lining the sidewalks, in yards…even the cars and motorcycles have these hostas on them. I’m trying to find the hotel where I am staying.
I call my sister. She said “I’m at work, so I can’t talk.” To which I respond “But, where am I?” She said “I don’t know, you tell me.” To which I respond “I don’t really know, but I think I’m in New Orleans.”
Then as I walk past another house, I see a woman get shot by some creepy little dude, who just looks at me, waves and leaves. I call my sister again and tell her “Not only do I think I’m in New Orleans, but I think I just saw someone get shot in the face.” To which she responded “You know, I work in a lawyer’s office, and you just can’t call me at work.” I replied “But you drive a schoolbus!” And she responded with “Yeah, but we park them at the lawyer’s office.”
I decide to go into the house where the woman appeared to be shot, and find someone I went to high school with. We decide to look in the adjacent home, because she thinks it may have happened there. We could not find the woman, nor could we find any blood or proof of a shooting, but we did find a room filled with cat pee and cat poop.
I then say to her “Well, it’s ok, because I think this is just a dream anyway.” We walk outside, and right next to us is a lot full of food trucks. I said to her “Oh, wow…food trucks, we just got those in Davenport, Ia.” She replied, “Yes, I read that, but our food trucks are better.” At a table by the food trucks were the friends that I went to New Orleans with, some dressed in costumes. They saw me and asked “Where the hell have you been?” I responded “Oh, you know, wondering around, looking a hostas, watching someone get shot…that sort of thing.”
I found the hotel, and we went off touring the area on foot, starting out at a mansion that my friend and her husband had been to years prior where he had obtained a lot of old tools and duct tape.