Another %*$(! dream (edited)

I am really beginning to hate that our brains don't just switch off when we sleep.

I was being seated as a replacement in a room with a jury that was deliberating the level of guilt of a child sexual abuser. In that weird way that dreams have of not being quite right, we were in some sort of cross between a petit jury and grand jury environment. There were prosecutors in the room with us, explaining the thirteen (!) levels of offense of which the defendant could be found guilty. They clearly felt that he was deserving of the highest level, and my fellow jurors and I seemed to agree. But as we jurors were deliberating, one of the prosecutors handed another one the paperwork for another case. It was also a child abuse case, and had my name on it as the suspect! The prosecutorial staff began observing me closely, silently communicating among themselves whether I should be removed from the present case, given my past record (?) and my apparent involvement in this new case. However, when we unanimously voted according to their wishes on the current case, they didn't want to put their result at risk by bringing in another juror to replace me.

After the other jurors left the room, I began speaking with one of the prosecutors about my case. I knew I was not guilty of this charge, so didn't mind speaking to them. I didn't know the victim at all. I told them that I already have a lawyer that I work with, at which point they seemed to expect me to not speak further. Still I cooperated with their interview. It seems that there was not yet any analysis of physical evidence which tied me to the crime, only the victim's insistence that I was the one who had attacked - her? him? this wasn't clear in my dream. I had been clipping my nails during the previous jury vote, and offered my clippings as a DNA sample. The prosecutor told me that fingernail tissue doesn't contain DNA (not true in real life). Still, my clippings, which were now a substantial pile of fingernail remains, could be useful for analysis against the pattern of fingernail marks from the victim's wounds, so could help clear me. The prosecutorial staff remained skeptical of my innocence, and I was afraid of being railroaded for a crime I didn't commit. They told me that I should take my clippings and deposit them under the juniper tree (dreams!), so I walked along the fence line - yes, I was now outside - holding my pile of clippings in both hands cupped together, and desperately looked for where they meant. When I reached the trees, I couldn't tell which one was the juniper, and there was no one in sight with whom I could deposit my clippings. I was suspicious that they were just trying to get me to dump any evidence that might clear me of the crime they were certain I had committed based on the victim's account and my past.

No, really, I'm starting to become leery of going to sleep. Now it occurs to me (a little later) that the outdoor part of that may have been a separate dream, as my dreaming throughout the rest of the night had this investigation hanging pendulously over me and over whatever else I was dreaming about.