I was in a house which belonged to Dave Adkins (whom I probably first met in 1964 when I was eleven years old and we both began the seventh grade together at Grant Junior High School in Portsmouth, Ohio). Dave was upstairs in one of the bedrooms with his girlfriend, while another fellow and I were downstairs with my ex-wife, Louise. Louise was the date of the other fellow and I was merely observing. I finally stepped into another room for a minute and when I returned, the other fellow and Louise had disappeared. Having a feeling that they might have gone upstairs to where Dave and his girlfriend were, I followed.

Upstairs I found the doorway to Dave's room covered by some cloth which I pulled out of the way. I hesitated to enter because I did not know what Dave was doing, but I walked on in anyway. I saw a large bed in the room and some activity on the floor on the other side of the room. I walked around to the other side where I saw Dave, his girlfriend, the other fellow and Louise all preparing to have an orgy. I immediately wanted to join in.

Dave approached me and asked if I had brought a partner. I sheepishly told him that I had not, but that Louise was part mine. He did not seem at all satisfied with my response and he suggested I go find a woman somewhere and return. When I told him I had no idea where to find anyone, he offered to help me and the two of us left together.

Dave seemed to think that I could find a woman named Cindy Barnett (a former law student) and bring her to the house. Since Cindy was such an attractive shapely woman, it was obvious why Dave wanted me to bring her.

We went to a night club which had a stage where he thought Cindy might be, but hardly anyone was there and we walked out. I was already despondent and I figured I was not going to be able to find anyone.

Out on the sidewalk, Dave and I encountered a couple fellows carrying guitar cases. One fellow stopped, pulled out his guitar and began playing. He was probably in his mid 30s, was thin and had longish black hair. I recognized him as a famous musician who had once had a problem with either alcohol or some other kind of drug, but who had overcome the problem.

As the fellow played his guitar and sang, he seemed a little shaky; I wondered if he had slipped back into his former addiction. His guitar only had two strings and although he seemed to have sufficient control of them, something seemed to be lacking in the performance. His song was a lament about a fellow who had been addicted to something and had broken the addiction. However, the fellow had later returned to his addiction and had fallen into such bad shape he could not even take a drink from a water fountain without help.

The musician's message was quite poignant; I was unsure whether the musician himself had fallen back into his former ways or whether he was just acting like that to better convey his point.

As Dave and I listened, we noticed that Cindy and a couple other girls had walked up and were preparing to enter the night club. Dave immediately called to Cindy, told her I wanted to ask her something and walked away.

Cindy and I, together with the other two girls, walked back to the car in which they had arrived. Cindy looked different than I remembered her. She seemed more like a teenager and not extremely sophisticated, although still quite intelligent. Her hair was short and very blonde, although it looked somewhat black around the roots.

Cindy thought I wanted to go out with one of the other girls and she mentioned as much. I immediately told her I might want to go out with one of the other girls some other time, but right now I wanted to know if she would like to go to Dave's house with me. For a moment I thought if she refused I might ask one of the other girls, but I discarded that idea and I thought it had to be either Cindy or nothing. Cindy seemed as if she did not want to go that night, but I continued imploring and I told her that Dave also wanted her to come. We continued talking and she seemed to indicate she might just go up for a few minutes.

Suddenly; Cindy and I were together in the downstairs of Dave's house. Dave, Louise and their partners were upstairs. I looked out the front door and saw the guitar player coming up to the door. He also apparently wanted to take part in the activities. I was unsure, but I thought Dave had given his permission. I wondered if the fellow had a female partner.

Dave had left Cindy a glass of something to drink which she picked up and began drinking. She immediately complained that the drink had been spiked with something and that it had a strawberry taste. I told her it must be strawberry wine, but I really thought the strawberry flavor was there to cover up the bitter taste of Quaaludes which I thought Dave had put into the wine. I knew Quaaludes had an aphrodisiac effect and I thought all the people upstairs had taken some. Now if Cindy drank the drink she would obviously become sexually aroused. Cindy continued drinking; I had the definite feeling that although she feigned not knowing what was in the drink, she was actually aware that it contained Quaaludes and that she wanted to feel their effects.

The Quaaludes began to take effect on her. She quickly seemed to become more outgoing, wanted to go upstairs and finally ascended the stairs. I waited a few moments and then followed. When I walked into the bedroom I noticed a girl sitting on the bed who reminded me of Marjean Runyon (a former high school schoolmate). I thought perhaps Marjean had arrived as the partner of the guitar player.

I looked on the other side of the bed. Louise, Cindy and the other girl were taking off each others clothes. The women were preparing to engage in sex among themselves. Louise seemed completely oblivious of my presence. I stood and watched like a gapping voyeur.

Suddenly, however, I found myself watching something completely different. I seemed to be looking at a large-screen documentary program about World War II. It was very graphic about the damage and suffering which had been caused by the Germans during the war; the program seemed to go into detail about the error of the German people in following Hitler. The commentary was spoken in German; I was most struck that the show had been produced by Germans after the war and was a description of their own faults.

The idea that the Germans could engage in so much self-criticism amazed me, but I saw how beneficial it was. The commentator continued talking about how the Germans were especially trying to show the idea of the mistakes of the German people to their children. He said, "Das haben wir mit ganzem Herzen auf die Kindern gerichtet."

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