Crack Head

Last night I had a dream about my sister. I came home & she was there & she was on the phone. She was talking to someone & she was visibly upset. She was sort of angry, sort of crying. She got off the phone & said "God, I hate addicts!". Then as quick as ever she said "I need to smoke" & began to look for her bag which was big & slouchy & hidden among many books, magazines, & papers that were on the sofa. I said to her: "You don't really want that." Clearly in my mind I made a choice to not say anything more. I knew that she would do what it was that she was going to do & even if I could stop her now, she would do it at another time. I couldn't save her. She found her bag & took out so quickly not just a pipe, but also it wasn't pot (my sister's drug of choice) but it was hard rock. Crack. She broke off a small piece of what was a rather large chunk letting some fall on a blanket, not caring, & lit the smaller piece. Sucking it in & exhaling, now sitting next to me I got up & told her the smell was awful & that I had to leave. That's all.