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March 1969

Carrying the Message

Escape from a nightmare

I spent two nights in San Blas, Nayarit, a tiny, mosquito-ridden, wretchedly hot tourist trap on the Pacific. The second night I slept fitfully, with several nightmares--one of imminent death, and another of being so thoroughly, soddenly drunk (and so completely guilt-ridden about my condition) that not even AA could help me. I can't recall when I have waked in such a state of nerves, fears, depression, and despair. I had arranged with a guide for a deep-sea fishing trip that morning, and was so confused and despondent that I nearly didn't go.


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