Dream of: 15 December 1994 (3) "Propaganda"
I was in a taxi, headed for the Logan Street House. The taxi driver was a thin fellow, possibly in his late 20s. When a light appeared behind us, he thought it might be from a police car and he sped up. He tried to outrun the car and sped down Kinney Springs Street. He asked me where to turn and he slowed down as if he were going to turn on Franklin Avenue. I said, "No. Keep going."
When we came to two streets close together, I said, "Take the next one."
After he turned to the right on the street I had indicated, I told him to turn into an alley, but he failed to make the turn and instead came to an intersection with another street. The police car pulled up right in front of us, blocking our way. I thought that the taxi driver had been stupid and that he could have escaped if he had just gone down the alley as I had told him.
The driver stopped and after getting out of the car, pulled out some papers and a bunch of money. The policeman walked up to the car and looked at the money as if to ask if he were being offered a bribe, but the policeman was good-natured, and didn't make a big deal out of it. Another fellow had walked up to the car with the policeman. This fellow was also tall and slim and in his late 20s. I thought the cop had just finished picking up the fellow for jay walking. As everyone stood outside the taxi, I became impatient, having only two more blocks to go. The cop told the taxi driver that he could get back in the taxi and drive me to the Logan Street House.
I was in the Logan Street House, where I was being confined by a court for some misdeed which I had committed. A man came to the House to show me a video of people using drugs and how damaging the drugs were. One scene showed how rock and roll performers had shot needles into their veins and damaged their bodies. I saw pictures of men smoking a marijuana joint which looked like a brown cigarette. A commentator talked about the damage to the lungs.
Although I knew drugs could cause the pictured damage, I was determined not to be influenced by this propaganda. If I were going to stop using drugs, it wouldn't be because I had been brainwashed with this video.
Still in the Logan Street House, I was sitting on a couch with Walls on my right, while several children were running around the room. I was thinking that my confinement would be finished that evening, at which time I planned to go to Walls' old house on Thomas Street where Lane was now living. I thought Walls and I would be able to get some drugs from Lane.
Walls had a small device which resembled a gun. After he pointed it at a couple of the children and fired, the children fell over dead. Although I didn't think Walls should have killed the children, their deaths didn't much bother me. However, in retaliation, I stood up and picked up a similar device. I aimed it at Walls, focused and fired. The shot instantly killed him.
I sat back down, feeling somewhat bad because I had killed my best friend. Although I felt a certain loss, the feeling wasn't overwhelming, and I thought I would quickly recover.
Still sitting in the room, I now found a black fellow in his late teens lying on the couch. I was planning to take a trip with him, a trip which I didn't want to take. I was uncertain what the trip was for, but I thought it might be to procure some drugs, perhaps in Africa, perhaps in South Africa. Whatever the trip was for, I thought it would probably be illegal.
I told the black fellow that when I arrived at our destination I wanted to hire a couple black body guards; he said I would be able to. I wanted the guards because I was concerned that since I was white, I might be attacked while I was in Africa.
I heard someone else talking about typhoid in Africa. They called it "tye." I knew typhoid would also be a concern; this was going to be an extremely dangerous trip. However I had decided to go anyway, even if it was dangerous, and even though I knew there was a good chance I wouldn't survive the trip.
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