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Showing posts from July 8, 2007
Last night, I had a very odd dream. And it was very affective; that is, I was certain to have a strong emotional reaction to the events. I was in Florida, eating lunch with a man who was sentenced to death. We ate in a different place than where he would die. The strange part is, we had to hurry, so he wouldn't be late. He was a black man (knowing me, probably innocent) but I never said his name. The building we entered was not a prison; it looked like a courthouse, more than a little like the Supreme Court. As my friend entered, I said, "Whatever happens, I love you." Sister Helen Prejean was there. She entered amid a media circus, as the celebrated author, whose book became the film "Dead Man Walking." We entered next, myself, and my friend's lawyer. We were led to a very small room, barely big enough for all the witnesses. In fact, there was no separation between us and the participants. I sat in the second row, and the first row was scarcely five feet a