Resigned to working again as a lawyer, I was walking toward a large modern building constructed of white stone, apparently a court house. I contemplated how I would use the money I would be earning – I definitely wanted to pay some overdue taxes. I should be able to earn enough in a month to pay the $2,000-$3,000 I thought I owed.
I would probably need help sorting through my records and filling out my tax forms; I might even hire an accountant to handle the task. Although an accountant would be expensive, it would be worth the money. Leo Bacher (a heavy-set former law student) crossed my mind. Bacher, an accountant as well as a lawyer, would probably be expensive, charging around $100 an hour. Still, I thought I might hire him.
Just as I was about to enter the building, I ran into Bacher, also walking into the building. I greeted him and asked him what was new. I now recalled that after attending law school, Bacher had also studied medicine and become a medical doctor. Although he was presently practicing medicine, I thought he would one day probably practice law again and use his medical knowledge in medical law suits.
As we carried on our prosaic conversation, I had the impression Bacher's house was filled with all the latest technological devices. He even described a new machine which he had installed – a garbage can which operated on the same principal as a micro-wave oven. When something was thrown into the can and the lid was closed, the object was gradually vaporized until nothing was left. I was impressed.
When we finally separated, I walked alone into the corridors of the building. Slowly I realized that I was actually inside a school and that the throngs of people around me were students. My old good buddy Randy Ramey walked up to me and began talking. Ramey was exceptionally friendly; in the course of our conversation, he informed me he had some LSD which he described as "strawberry acid." When I probed about the quality of the acid, Ramey said it was pure, not mixed with anything. Intrigued, I thought if the acid were so pure, I might like to try some myself. Since Ramey was apparently selling the acid, I asked him how much it cost, and he replied, "For you, fifty hits for fifty dollars."
I didn't want fifty hits, but for such a paltry price, I thought I might as well take them. Perhaps I could sell what I didn't want to friends. The idea of selling the acid made me slightly uncomfortable. It seemed I had once before sold drugs, and I didn't relish the idea of doing so again. However, I had the feeling it would probably be all right. So I agreed to meet Ramey the following morning at a class which we would be taking together. Then we separated.
Remembering I had a class, I hurried on until I reached the door to my classroom and I walked in. Although I thought I was on time, apparently the class had already begun. After easing up a row to the front where my seat was located, I sat down. My books were still lying on my desk where I had earlier left them. As I seated myself, I also noticed on my desk a couple items which belonged to someone else. When I picked up one of the objects, a girl sitting close to me claimed it. Another woman claimed the second object – a small ebony purse. In the process of distributing the objects, I interrupted the teacher, a woman probably in her late 50s; but she remained unrankled and simply continued talking.
The class was a mathematics course which was just beginning and was supposed to last for two years. After I had settled into my seat, I made a comment to the teacher that the older a person grew, the shorter two years seemed. When the teacher agreed with me, I had the feeling she and I were going to get along well, especially since I was confident of my mathematical abilities.
My seat was wide enough for two people; seated right next to me on my left was was my teenage sweetheart, Birdie. Wearing a soft white sweater, she looked as if she were in her mid 20s. The thought crossed my mind that I might later offer Birdie some of the LSD which I was buying; but I was undecided.
As the class proceeded, Birdie gradually laid her head on my shoulder. I wasn't pleased by the act because I didn't want the teacher to conclude that Birdie and I were involved with each other. I also knew several other women in the class were also interested in me and I didn't want them to think Birdie and I had any kind of relationship. Although I didn't want to hurt Birdie's feelings, I finally turned to her and simply told her not to put her head on my shoulder. Slightly offended, she sat back up straight.
Birdie (still on my left) and I were now sitting in a crowded auditorium, waiting for a show to begin and our seats now seemed more like long benches.
I slowly realized that I was nude below the waist and that I even had an erection. Indeed, my penis was standing straight up, actually touching my stomach. Birdie (who also seemed somewhat like my ex-wife Louise) noticed my condition and seemed fascinated by my penis. Apparently she had never actually seen me sitting nude with an erection. I didn't feel terribly inhibited, but I didn't feel completely comfortable either, sitting in the middle of a crowd like that. My erection didn't seem to want to go away. Indeed I was rather amazed at the intensity of the erection and the size of my penis.
My attention gradually focused elsewhere. Only now did I notice my brother Chris lying on his back between Birdie and me. It didn't occur to me that Chris was no longer alive, having died of muscular dystrophy many years before. His frail body was as helpless as ever. His head lay toward me and his feet toward Birdie. I merely accepted Chris's presence as something to be tolerated and I didn't give him much notice as an individual person. He was practically immobilized by muscular dystrophy and basically I regarded him as someone for whom there was no hope and who should therefore not be given much consideration. Birdie however, (who seemed increasingly like my mother) seemed very interested in Chris and in what Chris was thinking.
Abruptly Chris spoke with a voice so mature and clear that it startled me. He simply said he was going to sing a song and was going to sing it to the woman there. Without ado he sang out,
"Light on the river, you're my friend
Lord oh Lord tell me please why that this has happened to me
Light on the river I'm all alone
light on the river ..."
Chris's eloquent voice was simply divine. His intonation was soft, like the tugging voice of a child, but clear and beautiful. Almost immediately when he began singing I became deeply moved. I laid my hand on his head and began caressing his soft blond hair. Slowly my eyes began to swell; I felt my face pucker up and tears began to well. I closed my eyes and let myself be carried along by the beautiful, rhyming words. I didn't care who saw me.
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