Dream of:31 January 1996 "Justice In America"
I had gone to Howard Stern's radio station to pick up a new car which I had won in a contest. When I arrived and was let in, I began walking around the station and was amazed by its size. The station was spread out in many rooms on several floors. As I walked from room to room, looking for Howard, I encountered several different people, and I realized some worked for Howard, and were people whose voices I had heard on Howard's radio show.
Unable to find Howard, I continued walking around until once again I found myself back at the entrance. Someone gave me directions, and once again I set out walking, but I must have soon taken a wrong turn, for I found myself outside on the back side of the building where I was surprised to find some kind of grain business in operation, with trucks backing up to three large grain silos and being filed up with grain.
When I once again finally found the entrance to the building, I discovered I had walked into a small auditorium filing up with people, mostly young. Several people were smoking marijuana, and I wished I also had some. I thought perhaps someone there would sell me some.
I could see the stage down at the bottom of the seats. I was surprised the auditorium was in the building. It was actually quite nice. Still interested in finding Howard, I walked up to the top of the stairs and went through a door. I continued looking until finally I found Howard.
He greeted me and was extremely friendly, not at all caustic. We were in a room with about a half dozen other people who worked for him. He had a marijuana roach in his hand and asked me if I wanted any. The roach was so small I was unsure there was any marijuana left in it. I said, "Can I?"
I had asked the question in the sense of asking whether there was anything left in the roach which could be smoked, but Howard thought I had asked the question as if I were begging for the roach. He handed the roach to me and I took a hit.
I began walking around the room, finally running into a fellow who said he was Jackson Browne. He told me that he didn't write songs anymore, but that he did write stories. He also mentioned that he smoked pot. I thought I might like to get to know him. I thought he could read what I wrote, and I could read what he wrote. Plus, the idea of his being a celebrity appealed to me. I thought about my Dallas friend Eloise, and how I would tell her I knew Jackson Browne. I couldn't remember what kind of lyrics Browne used to write. I thought I would have to get his albums and listen to them. My only concern was that he smoked pot. I didn't know if the pot affected him so much that he couldn't write well.
I walked back over to Howard. Someone had a marijuana plant, and Howard and I held the plant up between us as someone took a picture. I liked the look of the plant and thought it was appropriate to have my picture taken with it.
When I joined back in with the others, I realized one black-haired man (about 40 years old) was unknown to Howard. I immediately became interested in the man and I quickly decided he must be a narcotics agent. Although Howard had only smoked a little pot, his being busted would be a big deal. I began questioning the man, who had an explanation for why he was there. Nevertheless I became convinced he was police. Finally he pulled out some kind of talking device and spoke into it. Then he said he had to go and he quickly left. Now I was positive he was the police.
I told the others the police had probable cause to come in and search because the man had seen the joint that Howard and I had been smoking. I kept repeating the phrase "probable cause" to try to get my point across. I told everyone they should leave immediately.
Howard and I were in a small blue sports car which he was driving. At first I thought only he and I were in the car, but then I realized three of his friends were in the back. As we drove through the city, I expected to be stopped at any time. And sure enough, up ahead, I saw a vehicle pull across our path to block us. I could just imagine what would happen next. We would all be taken out of the car and asked to line up on small bleachers out on the street. A large crowd would gather and I would yell out, "This is justice in America!"
I would also scream, "The drug war is against the people!"
I knew the drug war was ridiculous. I also knew that many people agreed with me and that someday the war would end and drugs would be legalized. In the meantime the barbaric war continued.
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