The house is silent.
"Of course you're listening. You're God. You're always listening."
God doesn't say anything in response.
"Anyway I want to talk to you for a few minutes."
God doesn't tell me to shut up or go to hell so I take it as a good sign and move ahead.
"I had crazy dreams last night that kept waking me up. I'm talking really stupid stuff! My son Jeremy goes missing and my brilliant daughter-in-law Marie keeps demanding that I go and get him. Sarah and I bump into my Granddaddy Carver who wants us to help him drive a tractor to New York and I just can't see him in New York for anything! Winston, the little gay dog, joined the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Crazy stuff!"
God keeps listening without interrupting.
"Listen will you do me a favor. I know you said that 'old men will dream dreams and young men will see visions.' I also know I'm 56 but I don't think that's old enough for me to be dreaming all of these dreams. I liked having visions better and as you remember I was pretty damn good at it."
I can tell God is mulling the point.
"I envisioned a little broken down church becoming a haven for homeless people and radical Seminarians and the place took off. Then I had visions to start Phoenix Place, the J.C. Lewis Health Center and the Starfish Café. Those were all pretty good visions that all came true! I had visions of Sarah in and out of a bikini way before it actually happened! God, I want to keep having visions and ask that you cut off the dream machine until I'm into my 60s at least."
God doesn't say no.
"Thank God," I rush to conclude. "You're great! OK, I know you're busy so I'll stop bothering you. Bye."
I get outside as fast as I can.
The sun is blazing bright in a brilliant blue sky. A breeze blows from the west, across the marsh bringing the delightful aroma of sex in the Tropics. The grass is green, the ocean flat and flowers bloom everywhere.
I always feel better when God and I talk.
I hope that you do too.
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