Mom called her and her older sister into the kitchen and asked them to sit down. “I have something to tell you.”
It felt ominous. She got a little bit scared. She can’t remember now if Mom did any more setting up of the oncoming words or not. Maybe she said, “You aren’t going to like it.” She can’t recall but the feeling of remembering included that kind of vibe.
“Santa isn’t real. Neither is the Easter Bunny.”
She started to cry. “Is GOD real?” The little girl asked. Her older sister didn’t flinch.
“Yes, GOD is real,” her mother answered. She sounded pretty convincing but she had just exposed a big old lie. How could she be trusted with any other kind of truth?
She started to question everything. It got her into a heap a lot of trouble everywhere she was. Teachers. Preachers. Friends and enemies. No one wanted her questions. Everyone already knew whatever it was they knew and couldn’t be convinced to think about her questions even the slightest. She felt so all alone.
“Why would a good God send anyone to Hell? Why wouldn’t he just send them to nowhere where they couldn’t come back to life and wouldn’t know they’d left?” That was Hell enough she thought. That thought was certainly Hell to her.
“What would we be if we weren’t? How does something come from nothing? Where can something go once it’s been? It can’t go to nowhere. Nowhere isn’t anywhere.”
She likes to dream now because dreams seem to have the best kind of explanation capabilities.
She wonders what a dream is. Is it GOD telling her the truth?
Almost every day before she wakes she has some kind of dream. Some are good and some are bad. The other day, before she woke, she dropped a little dog down a hole that was too small for her to get through and the dog was too far away to reach — way down what seemed like it was underneath a street. The dog fell right into another hole that was filled with water. All she could do was look on in horror as the dog sank farther into the hole filled with water — certainly about to drown.
What was GOD trying to tell her?
She kept screaming for someone to help. She was hoping there was someone underground since she couldn’t get through the hole and couldn’t make it bigger. Couldn’t someone possibly see? Wouldn’t they try to help a helpless little doggy certain to drown without someone elses help. She was helpless. What was all that space under the road for if not for space for someone else or others to dwell? Where were all the underground dwellers when they were needed? Weren’t there at least some kind of zombies?
It was a helpless situation and something was about to die. She couldn’t bear it. Before she couldn’t bear another minute she awoke.
That was one of the bad dreams. Good dreams don’t require waking up so soon.
Header image credit: Pixabay search for “Asphalt”