“Did you have any bad dreams last night?” Whenever I get asked that question by Rebecca before our first cup of coffee, I already know the answer: “No. Maybe. Yes. Why?” “Because your yelling scared the heck out of me and the dog, for that matter. Again. So, was it about the chase thing this time?” asked my beloved “CSI” fan, feared by all criminal minds who dare to pixelate her 60-inch TV screen. This time. Meaning it was not the first time. She’s Lt. Columbo with lipstick. The only missing prop was a dusty lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. My recurring dream was back. It’s always about the same thing:…