I was in a prison in Iraq. I realized I was in serious trouble, because Iraq wasn't on good terms with the United States. Plus I thought Iraq was on the verge of having a war with Saudi Arabia, and that was bad news.

As it turned out, I was frequently taken before a judge for a hearing. I was asked some questions and then graded for my responses. At first I thought the hearings were to determine whether I should be released. But after four or five hearings, I realized it was just a daily affair to provide a record of how I was doing in the prison. I also realized that it wasn't absolutely necessary to have hearings every day, but that I had been doing things which had caused me to have to have the hearings.

Other people in the prison also had to go to the hearings. One day I was at a hearing and saw about 20 other people in the room sitting on benches around the wall. I noticed two new people, a man and a woman, who appeared to be Americans. I asked them if they were Americans, but they didn't seem to want to talk with me, and the didn't give me a clear response. But I heard them talking to themselves, and it sounded as if they were Americans. I figured they would gradually become more friendly.

***

I was at one of the hearings. Another black-haired fellow (about 30 years old) whom I had never seen before was also at the hearing. He was an Iraqi, but he also spoke good English. I learned that he had committed an offense involving art. Apparently the government didn't like his art. He had been in prison once before for about 5 years. He anticipated being in prison a long time this time. He had ended up sacrificing his art for his offense.

I talked to him and asked him how to get out of here. I concluded that I was going to have to be in prison for about 5 years. That bothered me because I wasn't going to be able to write my dreams during that time. It was going to be an extreme hardship for me. I thought I would somehow just have to endure it.