Dream of:26 June 2005 "Standing At A Pulpit"
I was with my old friend Stephen Buckner (about 30 years old) and a couple other fellows on the campus of The Ohio State University. The two fellows were attorneys, and I at first thought Buckner was also an attorney, but then I remembered Buckner hadn't gone to law school. We were all waiting to go into a building where some kind of event was going to take place and we all sat down to wait. One of the two fellows sat over to the side by himself, while Buckner, the other fellow and I sat down at a card table with Buckner on my right and the other fellow on my left. We were all facing the middle, not facing each other.
Buckner and the other fellow both pulled out marijuana joints and lit them up. The fellow sitting by himself obviously didn't want to have anything to do with smoking. When I told Buckner to give me some pot, he handed me a little baggie of grass and gave me some rolling papers. I proceeded to roll a joint. I first poured too much pot onto the paper and I had to put some back in the bag. I only wanted a thin small joint.
As I rolled, a heavy-set man (about 60 years old) walked up, stopped, and looked at Buckner smoking his joint. I thought that the man was probably a professor there at the university and that he probably didn't like the idea of Buckner's smoking pot there. I reflected that possession of marijuana in Ohio was punished with a ticket and not with an arrest, but getting caught was still dangerous.
After I finished rolling my joint, the man walked up some steps in front of me and entered the building. The fellow on my left, after finishing his joint, also stood and walked up the steps, but he didn't go inside. He was obviously high now. He stood at the top of the steps and blathered how he felt as if he were standing at a pulpit. He even said something sarcastic about Jesus Christ. I didn't think he was funny.
I stood up. I was a bit nervous. Buckner also was concerned about the man who had passed us. Buckner finished his joint and said he didn't want to keep the baggie of pot on him. He began looking for a place to hide the baggie.
I also still had a small baggie containing a tiny amount of pot, as well as the joint I had rolled. I walked over to the side of a nearby house, where I thought I could hide the baggie, but first, I began trying to light my joint. I lit a match, but I had trouble lighting the joint. Finally however, I managed to light it. Meanwhile a couple of giggling girls were walking close by. One girl came closer and closer to me, until suddenly I realized she wasn't a girl, but a woman (30-35 years old). She abruptly asked, "Where do you keep yours, Mr. Collier? Where do you keep your drugs?"
I blurted, "I don't have any!"
Since the woman had spoken my name, I immediately knew I had a problem. She was obviously a cop. I thought how stupid I had been not to anticipate that the police would send a woman. I thought I could stick the joint in my mouth and swallow it, but I didn't know what to do with the little baggie of pot I had. I had been caught before I had been able to hide it. I could take off running and perhaps dump the pot out of the baggie as I ran, but I would probably still be caught. I didn't know what to do.
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