Waking up again, I was trying to decide if my last dream was really a dream or a nightmare. In my dream, I was struggling with someone holding my left...arm, while I couldn’t move my right arm because it was tied down. Someone else was holding my head, trying to stop me from moving. As bad as that sounded, and felt, I didn’t get the sense that it was being done for evil reasons. It was confusing. I pondered what it could mean for a while, but eventually, drifted off to sleep again without. I know that my country of birth is a lot less safe than living in this so-called “Sanctuary City” in a State that was mostly settled by people considered not true “Americans” by white folks in the rest of the country. I will do my best to tell my story without offending those readers that are “gung-ho” on getting all of us out of this wonderful land of opportunity. Besides, this story is really more of social adventures not related to any dispute about geography or immigration issues. I am. More

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