A Vision of Mexico

I was in Mexico. I don’t know how or why, but I was in Mexico. I found a small Mexican kid. For some reason, I decided that I had to help him get in to the United States. So we walked across the border. We saw a herd of buffalo, so we stopped and I placed him on one and slapped it on the back. The buffalo took off running, and the rest of the herd followed. I stayed back so as not to arouse suspicion to myself. The herd quickly passed a border patrol car, which we had both assumed was there. It tried to take off after the kid when it saw a lone buffalo running, but the rest of the herd soon squashed the idea.

I met up with the kid some time later to decide on a permanent hiding place. I thought Austin, San Antonio, or whichever of Dallas or Houston was closer would make a good spot. I assumed that was Houston, and that was where we went. Once there, we ran into the Walla Walla College church. We were quickly trailed by the secret service/army/whatever those guys were. They were wearing a colourful uniform. Dr. Scott [Walla Walla organ professor] was playing the organ. The kid seemed amazed and awed by it, and obviously wanted to play like that one day. I think it was his first experience with classical music. I took the kid to hide in a children’s room to the right of the platform and told him not to move for anything. Then I went out and showed myself to them, in hopes that would distract them from searching the area too closely.

They took me and everyone else they found in the church to the balcony, where we were “arrested” and they had guards posted. They interrogated us for information, but got none. There were about 15-20 people there, mostly people I knew. Now there was a woman we didn’t know playing the organ, and there was two consoles. Pressing the key on one made the same key on the other go down. The keyboards were set up differently on the other—they were really wide keys, one set was coloured dark green, and the others I don’t know. Two were beside each other, colour-coded being the only way to tell them apart; a third was on top, above the second keyboard but not the first. We watched the keys go down and were awed by her playing.

The captain began to press us for information, when a professor among us informed him the Mexican army was standing outside the church to ensure they didn’t harm the boy; that his 10 troops weren’t going to stand a fighting chance; and that he would be best to take the two French guys as hostages to barter for their safety with said army. The captain crawled out of the balcony window to look for himself, and saw them approach in the distance—but also saw a larger American army standing at the entrance to the church. Two higher-ups with 20 troops each were coming to take over. You could tell which soldiers were whose by the pattern of the uniform. They didn’t notice the captain. The captain slipped on the roof and was holding on to a ledge by his fingers.

We went down in to the lobby, where we were asked about the whereabouts of the captain. We informed the troop commander about the captain clinging for his life, and the commander ordered us all in to the sanctuary, where he had guards posted at every entrance, and searching down every aisle and room of the church. We thought that we needed to inform someone official at the campus to save us or else we would all be dead, because we didn’t trust the soldiers to give us due process or justice.

We went in, when a strange thought occurred to me: I wonder if they knew about the back entrance. I was walking towards it, and was about 15 metres from it, when suddenly the people ahead of me began running for the entrance, and the guards noticed, so I ran after them—I was the last one out. An unnamed friend shoved me right before the door because she thought there was only room for one of us. We ran across the lawn to Canaday [Technology Centre, the building behind the church]. There were five of us, all of whom are people I know at Walla Walla, and won't be named. The same friend who shoved me previously shoved me away from the door again and ran through, again because she thought there was only room for one, and we were all desperate for our lives at this point.

I still made it and we began running up the stairs. We hit the second floor and ran down the hall to the north, where it ended in a balcony to a billiards room. Not being what we wanted, we ran back to the stairs and continued running up. We heard soldiers chanting “the ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah.” The leader of our group commented “that isn’t music we want to hear.” We ran up to the third floor, and found a dead end, so we quickly ran back down to the second floor, fearing the soldiers would get there first.

I thought I was following them, but when I was partway down to the first floor, I realized they had stayed on the second floor. I continued running down the first floor, and I ran into the building. Some soldiers at the far end of the hall saw me as I ran across past the black box theatre. I burst out the doors [behind the building] and ran towards Sittner Hall [the men's dorm, beside the church with a parking lot in between], trying to find a building I was familiar enough with that I might stand a chance at finding a good enough hiding spot to wait for them to pass, at which point I might get help. I ran through the parking lot, and some soldiers were not more than 20 or 30 yards behind me. I didn’t think I could make it through the dorm to where I really wanted to be, which was the library or music building, so I crawled under a truck and got up onto the axle, where I propped myself up so that I couldn’t be seen from the sides of the truck.

And there the dream ends….