Dream of: 26 August 1997 "Fanatics"

After arriving in Mexico City and taking up lodging in a dilapidated rooming house, I was surprised to find that a door on one side of my room led into a neighboring room where someone was apparently living. Although I didn't actually see anyone when I looked into the neighboring room, I retained the distinct impression that someone was over there.

I settled back in my room and let my mind wander. The building seemed like a place where college students might live. I thought how some college students wasted so much time in college, concentrating on getting a bachelor of arts degree. Liberal arts programs in colleges were rather useless, offering little more than a four year vacation for the student. It was true that liberal arts students would read some books and some Greek plays; but how much work was that? When I had gone to college, I had sometimes studied nothing for weeks, and then crammed the reading into the time right before the tests. Of course I had learned something along the way, but basically it had just been a free ride. A waste of time.

I finally settled back and pulled out a marijuana joint which I had already purchased upon arriving in Mexico City. Even though I hesitated to smoke the joint because of the uncertainty of someone's being next door, I lit it up anyway, soon filling my room with marijuana smoke. It didn't take long before I had smoked the joint down to the end, and I began wondering what I would do with the roach. Thinking I might want to smoke it later, I began looking for a place to hide it. Of course the roach needed to be hidden in a safe place, because now that I had been smoking, I was concerned that someone might smell the smoke.

After finally hiding the joint, I once again opened the door to the neighboring room and walked in. Although concerned that someone might smell the smoke from my room, I had the feeling that I didn't need to be extremely worried.

Once I was in the next room, I found two black-haired Mexican fellows (probably in their early 20s). They seemed to be expecting me and were quite friendly. They immediately led me outside and we walked around for a few minutes. I recalled that I had walked on that street earlier, and I had noticed that it contained several stately old mansions constructed of wood. One yellow mansion was particularly stunning. There were also some vacant lots, as if other mansions had stood on the lots and had been torn down. I commented to the two Mexicans that this street seemed as if it might be one of the nicest streets in Mexico City.

They grinned as if I didn't know what I was saying. I quickly saw why: looking closer, I saw that the mansions were just on one side of the street. On the other side of the street were warehouses and unsightly industrial buildings which I hadn't noticed before. I now realized the street wasn't that pretty after all.

The three of us finally returned to the rooming house, to the room where I had originally found the two Mexicans. Now 15-20 other people were present in the room. I joined a small group and began talking with them. I figured they could all probably smell the marijuana on me since I knew the odor of marijuana sometimes remained on a person for a while, but no one seemed concerned.

Suddenly, as everyone in the room began sitting down in folding metal chairs arranged as in a classroom, I remembered why I had traveled to Mexico City. I stood in front of the others, like a professor in a class, and quickly came to the point: we were all gathered there to form a revolutionary-styled group to strike out at the laws against marijuana. All the members of the group would be fully committed to the proposition that marijuana should be legalized. We knew we were a minority of the population, but we also knew we were definitely right, and we were determined to fight for our cause. I stood in front of them and proclaimed, "We are fanatics!"

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