Dream of:20 February 1988 "Deportation"
I was in the living room of a house which reminded me of the House in Patriot. Seven or eight people in the room appeared to be relatives from my mother's side of the family. My uncle George (my mother's brother), who had polio, was seated on the floor.
Someone produced a marijuana joint and began passing it around the room. When the joint came to me, I was uncertain I wanted to smoke. Although I hadn't smoked in a long time, I finally took a drag from the joint. However the paper on the joint was pressed together at the end where I was trying to draw from, and the smoke wouldn't come through. I tore off the paper and took another hit; this time the smoke came.
When I finally passed the joint on, I realized I had had it for a long time, and I hoped no one would think I had been smoking the joint all that time.
The joint was passed around the room and came back to me. I hit it again. Gradually I began feeling the effects of the marijuana. My thinking clearly became more and more difficult. It seemed strange that I was smoking there. Two or three other people in the room weren't smoking, but it didn't matter to me. What seemed strange to me was that George was also smoking. I thought it was probably the first time he had smoked.
I finally forgot about the marijuana and I spoke with someone. Sometimes the person seemed like a man, but most of the time she seemed like a woman. Clearly the person was a relative, and might have been the mother of my first cousins, Alan and Randy (sons of my mother's brother Liston and his wife Jesse). We talked about a legal case in which she was involved. She had had to go in front of judge Schwille, and in front of two other judges in two different hearings. She had lost both times and as a result, she was going to have to leave the country.
The case appeared to be about immigration. Since one of her children had been born in Canada, both she and her child were going to have to leave the country. I tried to persuade her to return before the judges with me as her attorney so we could ask for a new hearing. I told her I was a good friend of judge Schwille. I also told her I wouldn't charge her anything, but she was unsure she wanted to return to court.
I asked myself whether her child could be deported. At first I thought the child was my first cousin Randy, but finally I decided the child was my first cousin Alan. I asked her if the child had been born in Canada. When she told me he had, I told her he could be deported. She protested that he was studying in a school. I told her that his studying didn't make any difference, and that he would be deported.
She was still unconvinced she wanted to return to court. I told her that if she lost her case in front of the judges, she could appeal it. Her right of appeal was very important in my mind.
I finally realized that we were sitting in the back of a truck, and that some water was in the truck. At first the truck was going slow, but then it speeded up and I almost fell into the water. I moved to the front of the truck to see who was driving. The driver was an ugly dark man who looked Hispanic. When I slapped him on the side of the face and told him to drive more slowly, he became angry and grabbed my hand. I couldn't free my hand from his fist. The situation was dangerous because he was driving very fast and only using one hand. I screamed, "Usa ambos manos."
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