Age 12. It was a Saturday night, I think. I was with my friend Kenny at his house,and his parent were down at the bar they ran in town. Kenny opened a closet door and there were cases of beer stacked to the ceiling. He pulled one out.
"Isn't your dad gonna miss that?' I asked.

"nah...he's so drunk all the time, he'll think HE drank it."

His dad was a bookie.

So, we had our beer and some Bob Dylan albums that belonged to Kenny's brother...who was also out for the night...and we had a nickel bag of sweet Turkish weed.
We fired one up. Hold the smoke in your lungs he told me.

*cough*
*cough*
*COUGH*

Before long, I was in dreamland. Kenny was squatting up on top of his dresser...and making like he was a frog ready to jump off. He had a beer next to him.
"RRRIIIIIBBBBBBIIIIITTT!"
"RRRRIIIIIBBBBBBIIIIIITTTTTTTTT" He said.

I thought this a bit odd. But Dylan was sounding mighty good...so I didn't know whether to laugh or just mellow out.
One thing I did realize was that it was almost my curfew time...and there was no way I could go home like this. so, we turned down the music and I called home to ask if I could spend the night at Kenny's.

My younger brother answered...and I told him to ask my father if I could stay over. I'm not sure how much time passed then, but suddenly my brother was talking into the phone loudly. "Kevin? Kevin? Kevinnnnn? KEVINNNN? ARE YOU THERE?"
When I told him I was there, it didn't sound like the words really came form me...it all seemed like a dream.
And as for dreams, later when I did fall asleep, I dreamed of a negro without a face. Very primitive looking. When I told this to Kenny in the morning, he had a good laugh.