Dream of:11 July 1993 "Needing To Make Bail"
I was in prison. I was walking around a large room, somewhat like a gym, when several black prisoners began gathering around me. Many other blacks were sitting on the ground nearby; I apparently had strayed into a black area. The blacks around me began to become hostile and started pushing me. I was quite scared and didn't know whether I should resist or simply fold up into a ball and fall to the ground. Finally, I simply tried to talk to them and figure out why they were angry with me. After talking a while, I succeeded in winning some of them over; it looked as if I might even become friends with three of them.
The three were probably in their early thirties; after I had talked with them a while, I asked their names. The first one, whom I liked the best, said his name was Steve. Another was named Kenny and the third was something like Sebastpol. I told him I had never known anyone by that name.
I took my leave, telling them I would see them later. I was also thinking to myself that if I ever had trouble with the other blacks again, perhaps they would help me.
I was in a cell which had one large bed shared by about sixteen different prisoners. I wanted desperately to get out. But I told someone I didn't feel as bad as when I had been in prison in Iran, where I had felt a constant pain which never abated.
I met a thin woman (about 30 years old) in the prison with whom I liked to talk. We had no physical relationship, but I enjoyed her company.
I explained to someone in my cell why I was in prison. I had signed a petition, perhaps a bankruptcy petition, for a client, but I hadn't had the client also sign the petition. I had filed the petition in another district where I had never practiced law. A day or so after I had signed it, the judge of the court where I had filed it had issued a warrant for my arrest.
I had already been in jail a couple days, and I hadn't been able to talk to anyone. I thought to myself that the worst part of prison was being cut off from the outside world.
I felt especially hard toward my father and my mother, because they hadn't even bothered to visit me. If they would simply come and see me, I might be able to find a way out.
I needed to find a lawyer and make bail. I had quite a bit of money; perhaps could even put up the bail myself. My only concern was that perhaps the judge would end up keeping my money. Still, I needed to talk to a lawyer, preferably one in the district where the court was.
I looked at the clock on the wall; it was about 2:30. I had looked at the clock earlier and it had also been about 2:30. It seemed that time was standing still. At 4:30 we would all go out into another hall and I would be able to use the phone; but it seemed like it was taking a long time.
I managed somehow to slip out of where I was into another section. I was now trying to get back. To do so I had to climb through an area which looked like a kitchen and pass by some people. One of them was the judge who had put me in prison. He was dressed in a light brown shirt and pants. He and the others were eating some ice cream and didn't notice me as I climbed on some counters and slipped by.
I needed to get out as soon as possible. It seemed as if it was Friday or Saturday, and I had a court appearance I needed to make for one of my bankruptcy clients the following Tuesday. I might need to try to contact someone to take my place.
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