Dream of: 19 September 2003 "Change Of Citizenship"
I was experiencing definite problems as I tried to return to the United States from Mexico. Mexico was just across the river from Portsmouth, where Kentucky normally was. I was already on the American side of the river, but I still had to pass through customs. My problem was that I was no longer an American – I had become a Mexican. I recalled how Wheat had also become a Mexican and I pondered how much Wheat and I had in common.
When I had become a Mexican, however, I had failed to obtain a Mexican passport or even go through proper procedures. Now I wished I had spent more time planning the transition of citizenship. I definitely should have checked about returning to the United States and I should have determined how difficult that would be.
I was standing outside the customs building, looking across the river toward Mexico, in the location where the U.S. Grant Bridge used to be before it had been torn down. Now there was no bridge; only a few piers where the new bridge was being built. I wasn't even sure how I would return to Mexico. Although the river looked too wide to swim, I might be forced to do so. How many people had tried to swim that river?
I began talking with an old Mexican man; he seemed poor and uneducated, but I enjoyed his company. As we looked down over the railing, I saw Brian down below us on the road which ran along the river. He was walking with a beautiful tawny Mexican woman. What a contrast – he with the beautiful woman and I with the poor old man. I didn't mind. I waved to Brian and with a big smile on his face he waved back.
Other Mexicans were standing around me, trying to enter the United States. One of the customs agents spoke to us. She was a friendly woman who seemed interested in trying to help us. She called five or six of us to her car and we all got in. I was unsure where we were going – I thought we probably were being taken back to Mexico.
I struck up a conversation with an attractive Mexican woman (about 30 years old) sitting next to me in the back seat. I figured she had no money and no place to go. I looked at her long legs, dressed in black hose, and I told her she could stay with me tonight. She didn't answer, but she seemed willing.
Suddenly the woman customs agent driving the car took a turn and pulled into Second Street in Portsmouth. She was trying to help us into the United States! I could hardly believe what was happening – I was back in Portsmouth. We drove west along Second Street past all the buildings I knew so well. I was so happy to be back. Maybe I could undue my change of citizenship. At least I was certain I wasn't going to leave again until I was sure I could return.
I would still look out for the Mexican woman. I might have to find a motel for her here in Portsmouth for tonight.
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