Dream of: 05 April 1995 "Jury Duty"

While visiting Portsmouth, I had been called to a jury duty, and I had gone to the building where I thought the courtroom was located. Inside it appeared to be a large, old school with the halls filled with teenagers. The building was divided in two sections connected by walkways. I had gone to the third floor of the section I was in, thinking that I would cross the walkway to the courtroom on the other side. However I soon found that there was no walkway on the third floor, and that I would have to go back down to the second floor to cross over.

As I headed back down the stairs, at the bottom I encountered a black, teenage boy standing with one leg up on the railing, blocking my way. Since he showed no sign of moving, I walked around him, thinking about how impolite he was and how someone ought to teach him to have some manners. I had noticed that many young black people were the same way. Another fellow came down the stairs and also encountered the black teenager. But instead of going around the boy, this fellow simply ducked under his leg. I took it that he did that to point out to the boy that he should get out of the way.

As I hurried down the hall toward the courtroom, I thought about the trial. I had heard that the case was against some defendants who had been accused of a drug offense. I knew if I were on the jury I wouldn't convict anyone of a drug offense. I thought the laws against possession of drugs were immoral and unjust. I certainly wouldn't help send someone to prison for violation of these insane drug laws.

I also thought I knew some of the defendants, that I had gone to high school with them. I specifically thought Leroy Kegley was one of the defendants. If I knew any of the defendants, it was unlikely that I would be picked for the jury, and I fully expected to be quickly stricken from the jury list.

As I finally reached the courtroom, I realized the halls were now empty. I looked at my watch and saw that it was 9:01 o'clock. All the students had gone to their classes, and I was one minute late. I walked into the courtroom and saw the judge sitting on his high bench to my right. He had just started calling out the names of the people called for jury, so I thought I had just made it in time.

I looked around the room for a place to sit. The place was full with well over 100 people in the room. I saw the defendants, perhaps 20, sitting in two rows of raised benches along the back of the room. But I didn't see anyone whom I recognized.

I made my way over to the right of the room where some high round tables about a meter in diameter were lined against the walls. People were sitting in tall chairs at the tables, two people per table. At first I didn't think any chairs were free, but finally I noticed one and headed to it. As I took off my long, beige overcoat and hung it on the back of the chair, I noticed an attractive woman sitting at the table; another attractive woman would be sitting right next to me at the neighboring table. I could immediately tell that the two women were friends.

As I tried to climb up on the high, white chair, it wobbled a bit a bit and I heard the two women titter. When I finally stabilized myself and pulled up to the table, I turned my attention to the woman sitting there. She was beautiful. And she was staring right at me, with an expression on her face as if she knew me.

When I spoke to her and she confirmed that she did know me, I studied her face more clearly. She was probably about 30 years old and had shoulder length brown hear. She had dark eyes, red lips and a thin nose. She was thin and from what I could tell she had an excellent figure. I very much wanted to remember who she was, but I simply couldn't recognize her.

She commented that my tie was straight now, unlike when she used to know me eight years ago. I looked at the dark red tie I was wearing with my nice, clean shirt with a flower print. Indeed my tie was hanging straight down. Recalling that Carolina had recently told me that a tie I was wearing was hanging straighter and looked better, I almost told the woman that my wife had recently told me the same thing; but I stopped myself: I decided it might not be best yet to mention that I was married. I could always tell the woman later.

She again insisted that she knew me. She mentioned a house about a block away where I had stayed, and I asked her if she was referring to the Gay Street House. She confirmed that she was. She also mentioned that she knew that I was a lawyer. I said, "I am a lawyer. But I'm not a lawyer in Ohio. I'm a lawyer in the Dallas Fort Worth area."

However, just the fact that she knew about the Gay Street House and that I was a lawyer certainly seemed to indicate that she did know me. As I scrutinized her face, I began to realize just how attracted I was to her. She had such a lively, intriguing, intelligent demeanor. I couldn't take my eyes off her and I felt myself hopelessly attracted to her.

Although I was still aware that we were in a courtroom and that the defendants were still sitting not far from us, almost all my attention was focused on this lively, intriguing creature. The cloud hanging over my mind was that I was married. I wondered if she was asking herself whether I was married. If she were to look at my ring finger, she wouldn't see a wedding ring, because I didn't wear one. But when I looked at my own finger, I saw that I was wearing black gloves, so she couldn't tell. I casually took off the gloves. I couldn't tell for sure, but I though I detected a sense of relief from her, as if she had seen that I wasn't wearing a wedding ring.

The woman at the other table next to me meanwhile had been observing everything that had been going on, and she could obviously detect my enamored state of mind. She looked at me and told me it wasn't going to do any good to try to pursue this beauty. She said, "Randolph Hurst tried for seven years."

By that statement I understood that another man had unsuccessfully dated this woman for seven years, but had never succeed in winning her. But that didn't deter me. I was already too far gone.

The woman had left a nice pen lying on the table. I picked it up and began scribbling on a piece of paper. She playfully took the pen from me, claiming that it was hers. I pulled out a Bic pen from my shirt pocket and continued doodling. I had made some small boxes and was filling them in with "X's." It occurred to me that an "X" stood for kiss, and that I might try to show them to her, hoping she would get the message that I would like to kiss. her.

She leaned over closer to me as if she were trying to get a better look at what I was writing. She came so close that her cheek touched mine. I could hardly believe it. Her skin was so soft I seemed to feel it all over my body. I took it as sign that she wanted to kiss me, and I turned my face to hers. I moved my lips toward hers and she didn't pull back. When our lips met, I felt electrified. I couldn't remember feeling this good. She only opened her lips slightly, not really wide enough for me to go very far. Although soft, her lips stayed slightly taut, as if she were saying I could only go so far. However, it was far enough for me. I was in love.

Only one dilemma remained: I was married. I couldn't tell the woman. I had made my decision. I wouldn't risk telling her that I was married.

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