No one really likes to hear about other people’s dreams. I know this. But every night, I have a grand mix of spectacular from the other world. It is like going to the movies every time I sleep, and I have the theatre to myself.
Last night was a doozy. I won’t bore you with the entirety of the dream. But loosely: There were four, five, six of us together. The number, and the people, kept shape-shifting. We were doing things like eating out at a restaurant, playing Frisbee in a field, planning critical business moves, and on. Regardless, at one point in the dream, we received a packet which were “The Letters From God.”
I know. I thought the same thing. What are the odds?
Anyway. Someone had the task of storing them, and when we went to pull them back out, they were all stuck together. Somehow, Elmer’s Glue had become involved. Oh, the big-dang-woe of it all.
So there we were, standing around “The Letters From God” and they were thick like a brick. By the way, God had handwritten these letters, in pencil, on looseleaf, college-ruled paper — the kind with three holes — that could have easily been stored in a binder — I pointed out to my fellow Keystone Cops.
Someone suggested that we get a large bowl of warm water and soak the letters briefly, to soften the glue. It happened so quickly. I tried to fish them out in time, but there they were, “The Letters From God,” now loosely swimming in the water, as the traces of God’s penciled script dissolved before our very eyes.
I stood back, folded my arms, and said, “Great. Just great. Now it’s all a big mystery again.”
We went back to our Control Room that looked very similar to NASA headquarters, and took hits off the Space-Gas-Tube, as we looked at wall maps of the United States. We were planning some sort of route, and feeling better from the effects of the Space Gas.
That’s all I remember.
When I woke up, I kind of had the sensation that Moses had done the same damn thing. Those weren’t stone tablets he was holding, at all. It was just a big bunch of papers that he somehow had gotten stuck together like a brick. And he could only read the first page, omitting the part on the bottom, that said, “Continued on Next Page.” Moses was probably eating milk and honey and spilled that concoction all over the place. Hence, the resulting rock of stuck pages. Yes. I’m almost sure of it now.
Because those ten things just don’t seem like enough. I bet God has a lot more to say. More answers. Probably. Like, why doesn’t Donald Duck wear pants? And come peanut butter toast always lands face down when it is dropped?
Needless to say, the mystery still remains. Everything is not written out, not all lined up, in black and white. Instead, we still have a bunch of gray. Like a bowl full of water, with looseleaf paper floating around inside.
But truthfully? Somehow those letters stayed with us, and we usually know what the next right thing is. And we do what we do.
“I think God, in creating man, somewhat overestimated his ability.”
― Oscar Wilde
“The function of prayer is not to influence God, but rather to change the nature of the one who prays.”
― Soren Kierkegaard
“I have only made this letter longer because I have not had the time to make it shorter.” (Letter 16, 1657)”
― Blaise Pascal, The Provincial Letters