Dad and I were in a large parking lot with some buildings around, cars all over. He was looking for his truck, and I was trying to find my car. We split up in hopes of finding both vehicles. As soon as Dad was out of sight, I found myself inside one of the buildings, kidnapped. A Spanish-speaking lady and her daughter were cowering in the corner with me. There were a few dangerous looking Spanish-speaking men with knives guarding us. I knew there had to be other people somewhere on the premises. I wondered if Dad had found his truck and escaped. I knew I had to find my daughter immediately. I spoke to the lady quietly to avoid attention, asked how old her girl was. I was concerned about us all being assaulted, so I told the 12-year-old girl no matter what happened, survival was the most important thing.

I was allowed to go to the bathroom, which was through another room up some stairs. From there, I was somehow in a barracks-like structure. There were bunk beds in rows. My daughter was napping on the bottom bunk of one of them, so I woke her quietly and made sure she was fine. The funny thing was that her hair was shorter than it is now. Judging by that, her age must have been about 10 or 11.

I woke up with my heart pounding. My mind was working on a solution to get us out of there safely. I remember thinking I would hope the other woman and her daughter could escape with us, but my brain said I could trust no one. We could be betrayed if one of the thugs threatened her child and she could save her by telling our escape plan.

Analysis, anyone?