Dreamland

Jury Duty

I’m living in Denver and I’ve just been summoned to jury duty. I’m riding in a bus filled with other prospective jurors, going to the courthouse. None of us are happy to be here. The courthouse is packed when I get there. I’m assigned to a group that must report to another building several blocks away.

I have plenty of time to get there. Rather than wait for a bus, I decide to walk. A few others walk with me, also too impatient to wait. We get the directions wrong, end up lost in an industrial area that is in development. On closer observation, the half-built structures appear to have been there for a while. It looks like an unfinished project that ran out of money and was abandoned a year or two ago. Windowless buildings with unfinished interiors, some without roofs, have been taken over by transients and junkies. I hurry along, trying to get past the buildings.

A woman on foot approaches me. I recognize her; she is someone I was in a relationship with years ago. Back then I used to drink quite a bit; I was really an asshole to her at times. She had her own problems with substance abuse too. Our relationship had not ended happily.

Cathy is not pleased to see me now. I apologize for my past behavior, ask if I can buy her lunch. She refuses, carrying on, telling me all of my faults, and how much she hates me.

I look around, the other jurors I was with have moved on. Several transients are approaching, looking like they may try to rob us. I tell Cathy that we should stop arguing and get out of here while we can. She agrees, and we start to run. She is not able to keep up; the transients are gaining on us.

I take her hand, dragging her along. She starts shrinking, and soon is small enough to pick up in one hand. I do this, running away from the transients while carrying Cathy like a football. I turn a corner and I'm in front of the court building. I put Cathy down, and she grows back to normal size. I walk inside with her. She is in a different jury group, so we say our good-byes, on somewhat better terms now at least.

I walk into the room, and take a seat at a table with three other jurors in my group. I try to start a conversation, but none of them feel like talking. The man in charge comes out of his office, announces that there has been a delay in the trial. We are all to wait here until we get further instructions. I wish I brought a book with me.