“I don’t use drugs, my dreams are frightening enough.” ~M. C. Escher

Some may believe that I can be a touch blasphemous, but as it so happens, during this holy time of the year for so many, I had a dream …

There I am, entering the gates of heaven, looking at them and thinking “these really are pearly, how appropriate.”  Wow, but then I look around and wonder where the heck is St. Peter? At least I didn’t have Cerberus nipping at my butt, but believe me, I kept an eye out for her.

So I open the gates and walk into a large room. Sort of like the room you see at the U.S. Senate hearings when they are blowing wind publicly. There is a long table with all these weirdos sitting there in judgement, and a single lectern, facing me, but no one standing at it.

I look at who is there, starting from my right, which is appropriate for me in a religious kind of setting. The first one is an androgynous looking being, classic white robe looking a bit fed up.  Seeing that his/her name plate was blank, and the gender unclear, I realized this was the god I spent my life praying to and cursing at. Ugggh.

Next was a really hot looking one, blond, great body, early 40’s-ish. Looked like one of those gorgeous Orange County babes you would see pushing a wheelchair around Starbucks and you would lust after (hey, it was my dream). Nameplate? Aphrodite. Damn, just like Carlo Ponti on earth, my guy next to her had the best seat in the house. She was there because Zeus had a PT appointment and couldn’t make it.

Next was some young, thirty-ish looking guy, beard, longish hair, looked a lot like I did in college. His shirt said “So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” Oy vey iz mir, I think I’m in trouble. His nameplate simply said “JC.”

Freya stood there like she had known me for a thousand years.

Lord knows I never would have recognized Vishnu if it were not for the nameplate and my mastery of Sanskrit at the young age of 6 (dark blue skin, four arms, lotus, mace, conch, and chakra be damned). To the left of Vishnu was Buddha wearing a very funny t-shirt, it had a picture of what looked like a fast food place and it said “Eat at Cunda‘s!”

Next was Muhammad, and you have to love his shirt .. “God, shmod, Prophets have all the fun!”

Olódùmarè, Qailertetang, Bai-Ülgen, Isten (of course with the lovely Boldogasszony on his lap), and a slew of others rounded out the group. Curiously, and I looked, Ba’al and Jim Jones were absent. Guess there were no false gods allowed.

A voice in my head said “Choose the one who controlled your life and that is who will speak at the podium.”

WTF? Having no idea how to respond to that one, I walked up to the podium myself, turned it around so it faced the deitacious panel. As I stood there, waiting to speak, I made the mistake to look at Aphrodite … she gave me a Sarah Palin wink and a smile. I knew then that I could not walk away from that podium for a few minutes …

“I did the best that I could with the shit you gave me.”

Makemake did roll his eyes, but other than that they just looked at me. After what seemed like an eternity a door on the side opened and a soothing voice said “Welcome.”

And then I awoke to Pearlsky having a seizure. So I held her the rest of the night.

And to all a good night.


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