They all took place in this quaint little downtown, about the size and character of the one in Athens, GA or Lafayette, IN.
There was a murder mystery. I had a cool apartment in a neat old building with a used bookstore off the marble lobby. I had a nice balcony with lush potted plants, which should have been one clue that it was a dream.
The imaginary town must have been somewhere in northern Indiana, because it was flat, and the people on the city bus in the dream looked appalled as Gunsmith Bob loudly explained that the only reason Notre Dame was undefeated was that they played half their games against the Little Sisters of the Poor and assorted other Pop Warner squads, instead of in the SEC, where the real football teams are.