Shot

In the dream C. and I are moving her to college. We're on a campus that's carved out of a landscape of tall green hills and sharp ravines. The dorms are tucked between two peaks. The buildings are fraternal twins--identical art deco gems but two different colors, one cream the other rose. There are a lot of other young women milling about in the hallways. I'm already in C's room staring into a small closet, thinking about where she can fit what. C. is in the hallway or maybe just near the front door. I can hear her talking and laughing. Then there's chaos. A man's voice. Shouting. Screams. "He's got someone." or maybe it's, "He's shot someone." Then a moment of  quiet crescendos into sobs.  I'm frozen, listening for my daughter's voice.
In these moments, though I'm not in the hallway, I see with my dreamer's eye what has occurred. And I know what no one has explained. Just down the road there is a penitentiary. No one at the college ever mentions it. A prisoner has escaped. He's hurt my daughter and I am still staring into the closet, unable to move.