I had been arrested for selling drugs and transported to a huge prison. The place almost seemed like a police station, with so many people running back and forth, but it was a prison. My father had been called and had come immediately. He was sitting beside me at a table when the police began going over the details of the offense, as if they were arraigning me. I knew that the situation was serious and that I would probably end up spending some time in jail.

As the police reviewed the crime, it almost seemed as if I were watching a video of someone else instead of myself. I could vividly see certain scenes. I saw a man  with a baggie of drugs at a park. He was a rough-looking black-haired fellow probably 30-35 years old. He got on a four-wheeler with someone else and they took off. The police began pursuing him, cutting him off wherever he tried to go. At one point the man pulled out a big black handgun, but then he stuck the gun back in his pants. Finally the police caught him and arrested him.

As these images passed before me, someone stepped up and said a girl was here at the prison to see me. The police allowed me to get up and go walk back into another room, where I found Carolina. She looked so innocent and young (probably 17-18 years old). She was crying and crying. I put my arm around her. She didn't know what to say. I said to her, "The charge is drugs and selling drugs."

She sobbed, "I don't know where you've been some nights, some nice nights."

I thought I would have to tell her I had been out selling drugs; but then she said, "I know the judge."

This was quite a revelation. She said the judge was her best friend. I didn't know what to think about this, but it sounded like great news. I could see the judge. He was a tall black-haired strong-looking man. If the judge would listen to her, maybe she could talk with him. I couldn't wait to go back out and tell my father she knew the judge.

Maybe I could go before the judge and act as if I were contrite and as if I would never do this again. I could act as if I had had a revelation. But in reality, I had experienced no revelation – I thought drugs should be legal. But I could fake a revelation to get out of jail. I thought it wouldn't be that bad, but I probably would lose my law license. This was a bad situation, but there was still hope I would get out of it.

I had to leave Carolina now. I asked somebody which way to go, whether to go back the same way I had come, or around another way. I went back the same way to where I had been and again sat down at the table.

Now some guns were in a box on the table. I moved the guns from one box to another. I thought maybe I could pick up a gun and even though it was empty I could act as if I had a weapon – the police wouldn't know. I could start pointing the gun at people and try to get out of here. But finally I realized pointing a gun at people would be crazy.

Dream Epics Home Page

Copyright 2008 by luciddreamer2k@gmail.com