Dream of: 28 February 2001 "Narrow Escape"
I was sitting in the front passenger seat of a red car which also contained three other fellows (probably in their late 20s). Being transported in the car with us was approximately a pound of marijuana. We had previously been pulled over by the police and then ordered to drive on to a certain location. After our brief detention, I had removed the marijuana from one container and placed it in a brown paper bag. A couple half-smoked joints were mixed in with the loose marijuana, and as I had been shifting the marijuana, I had smoked part of one of those joints.
As the four of us traveled down the highway, we were pulled over a second time, this time by army personnel. Again we were allowed to travel on, and we continued apace, until for the third time, we were stopped by the police. Scared, I immediately set the paper bag with the marijuana on the floor at my feet, then kicked the bag back under my seat. Sitting on top of the marijuana like that wasn't an agreeable position. When a police officer walked up to the passenger side of our stopped car and stuck his head through the window, I thought he would surely want to search the car. Instead, he authoritatively asked what was taking us so long. I told him we earlier had been pulled over and delayed by the army.
The officer told us that the woman officer who had stopped us (I now seemed to recall that indeed a female officer had stopped us the first time) was waiting for us back at the place of our first detention, and that we needed to turn around and go back. (I had the distinct impression we were being ordered back because we had tarried so long). The officer then allowed us to proceed.
We continued in the same direction we had been traveling for a short distance, as if we were looking for a place to turn around and go back, as the officer had directed us. But, when I thought we were out of sight of the officer, even though I saw a cross-over in the medium where we could turn around, I began explaining to the others why we shouldn't turn around. I told the others that the female officer, who had originally detained us and who had sent us on down the road, had made a mistake because she hadn't confiscated the marijuana from us. My mind was fuzzy as to why the marijuana hadn't been confiscated it certainly should have been. I was positive that the female officer had known the marijuana was in the car, even though I was unsure whether she had actually seen it.
To my astonishment, the other three in the car disagreed with me about not turning around. For some unfathomable (to me) reason, the three of them wanted to turn around and return to the woman (with the marijuana in the car). This tactic seemed insane to me, and I insisted that we could dispose of the marijuana somewhere in the trees on this desolate stretch of road.
My arguments were at least persuasive enough for the driver to steer off onto a tiny little path which wound up a hill through the trees whose brown leaves bedecked the forest floor.
The driver's name was Paul, and I directed much of my attention toward him. I pointed out that both he and one other fellow in the car had been previously convicted of a felony (I thought each fellow had one felony on his record). I told them that if either of them were to be convicted for possession of this pound of marijuana, that person would receive a minimum prison term of 10 years. Nevertheless, Paul insisted he wanted to take the marijuana back to the woman officer. Frustrated, I finally suggested another solution to Paul: I told him that since he was driving the car, and he wanted to return so badly, he could simply claim the marijuana was his. In that case, he should be the only one charged with possession. Paul began to give this solution some thought.
Meanwhile, the wooded trail we were following along the side of the hill was becoming dangerously steep. Almost without warning, the car began to tip over toward the driver's side, the side of the car headed downhill. Since I was sitting in the passenger side of the front seat, I thought to myself that if only the window were open, I could slide out and save myself - but the window was closed. In my mind, I could already see the car rolling down the high hill, over and over, killing us all. Suddenly I was standing outside the car, on the side of the hill, actually watching the car roll and smash down the hill. How had my exit from the car been possible? The window had been closed! And yet somehow, I had slipped out to safety, while the other three had crashed down the hill.
When the car finally stopped rolling, I saw no movement and I was convinced all three fellows had been killed. And that marijuana was still in the car! I wondered if I should go down there and see if anyone were still alive, or if I should just get out of there as fast as I could.
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