I was in Honduras, with perhaps a dozen other young people on what appears to be the level roof of a building, when two men (probably in their 30s) appeared with a large sack. They dumped the contents onto the roof, and I saw it made a large pile of what appeared to be a brown, grainy substance with the consistency of sugar. The men said that it was cocaine and that they wanted $5,000 for it.

I thought I would like to buy it, and with little hesitation, I did so.

Nearby was another smaller pile of cocaine which also belongs to me, and I began gathering it together in a bag. As I did so, I began to become concerned, because there were so many people around here who had witnessed my purchase of the cocaine. I quickly scraped up the smaller pile and then went back over to the large pile, around which several people were now standing.

As I gathered it up in a sack, it became clear some of the people here wanted some. I begrudgingly gave one fellow a handful, hoping that would satisfy them and no one would bother me.

I began to become concerned about what I was going to do with the cocaine now. I would like to snort some of it myself. How could I have bought it without even trying it first? And how was I going to get it out of Honduras? Had it been a big mistake buying it? Maybe so. I felt quite uneasy.

***

I was in the United States, preparing to return to Honduras. I spoke with a young woman, perhaps in an airport, and I told her I was going to Honduras. She seemed to think that was exciting. I told her I went there often and I told her about a family I knew in the center of a city. I stayed with the family while I was there. I thought about how I might want to start living in Honduras or perhaps Guatemala. I might like to become involved in the political situation in a small country like that. It would be easier to achieve a position of power somewhere like that.

Copyright 2005 by luciddreamer2k@gmail.com