pressure

I was sitting toward the back of an auditorium, waiting for a show to begin. The huge room was filled with people and it seemed that there would be speakers and performances of various kinds. The old man next to me began speaking with me and, where at first I didn't mind, he became increasingly confronting, making me extremely uncomfortable. First he said that he could sense when people had too much caffeine pumping though their system, that they were tense and charged. I confessed that I had earlier had two small cups of coffee, but felt fine. He then went on to say that he had lived at the time of Jesus, that he remembered his life and that he remembered me. He said I was Elizabeth. I did not believe him but felt curious nonetheless. He then asked me to sing a particular religious song that I vaguely recall from my youth. I declined but he insisted. Again I declined. Instead of accepting that I did not want to sing, he amplified the pressure. He called the main speaker over from the stage to support him. The man, his voice booming over the sound system, walked up the aisle to the back of the auditorium where we were sitting, stood over me and told me to sing. There was no way now that I would sing, none at all, and my anger and embarrassment was too much. I walked out of the auditorium, turning my back on all that the crowd stood for. Outside, I found my friend, S. She was looking for me, walking through a maze of tents and stalls. We were obviously on the grounds of a big festival, probably religious.