I got into a situation where there was a galloping parade of something that seemed to be connected to a song by Cher. It was like a giant crowd of people I couldn't quite see were coming at me and going to knock me out of a dream.
me: (cowering) "Hey...Cher, or whoever, quiet down! What's with this stampede!"
The stampede sort of stopped and I couldn't quite see what was going on, and then it turned into me just standing up in the living room where I'm staying talking to a woman who seemed to simultaneously have a caravan of horses and other riders with her.
woman: "The noise is just a fact of life in this area, it comes from how people are living on your planet. You'd have to get to a city to be safe from it. The nearest city is in to the south, 1500 miles away. I could try to take you there, but you wouldn't even make it halfway before getting clobbered. Jesus says he's not moving the borders any closer until the Obama Apex Plan has made it safe for his people."
I don't know what the distance was, but she did seem to give it in 'miles' (or I heard it that way). The plan I don't actually remember...but it was something about Obama, and it wasn't Obamacare.
me: "What...? Okay, so Jesus runs a dream city and is politically affiliated? This sounds like crap to me. If he's so opinionated about things, why can't he change things to stop the noise?"
woman: "There's a difference between "can't" and "won't"."
me: (frustrated) "This all sounds like B.S. to me."
The view shifted, and I wound up talking with a guy seemingly sitting on the floor in the bedroom where I was asleep. His head looked a bit like Greedo from Star Wars.
greedo: "You may not want to accept that it's true, but God does have a special interest in humanity. It was a project, it was intentional. The plan was made and the egg guarded and hatched. And while it didn't really work out perfectly, He still takes care of it."
me: "I thought God was perfect and did everything in a magic instantaneous poof."
greedo: (sarcastically) "Yup, sure. Because that's exactly how every act of creation works in art. You try something and get it absolutely right the first time. That only happens if your idea is really simple, and thus, boring."
me: "Well I'm not a fan of how things are running."
greedo: "Everyone gets down on the way people are a lot of the time. I do. But I can hear a song and get teary and sentimental about it, and the feelings expressed. And you're lying if you say you don't."
The crowd noise and jumbling began to encroach into the room. I had to duck and shift myself around to try and fend it off.
me: "So what about all this spam... noise... the stuff that's interrupting?"
greedo: "That's just currents of thought, interference. Someone thinking about someone, it can be anything. A girl wondering why a boy she met hasn't called, for instance...that wave just bumped into you as it passed. Some of it is basic simple sincere stuff like that. There's spam also; where the channel of attention is being deliberately attacked by those who've figured out it's there."
me: "Why doesn't God do something about that, then?"
greedo: "Go ask Him. He's in the other room."
I dodged the kind of shaky environments and moved to the living room, where I saw an older man who looked a bit like my uncle who had come to visit. He had white hair. When he saw me he vanished, but then I ran in and around a loop between rooms to see him playing a sort of game of hide-and-seek with me. Eventually I caught up with him and he stopped to talk to me.
me: "So you profess to be God?"
old man: "Yup. And I have to say one of the things that I find really impressive about you is how you encourage people to learn techniques for challenging what they're told or what they think they know about a situation."
me: "Well, thanks. But you look more like my uncle to me than anyone. What's with this not fixing things?"
old man: "You're one to talk. I was pretty disappointed you didn't vote in the last election. There's sort of a way of thinking about things, isn't there--at a point where it's not about how smart you are or how good your ideas are, but that you're facing a system incapable of change."
me: "It is incapable of change."
old man: "Maybe so, maybe not. But I'm talking more about the effects on yourself of believing it isn't regardless of your actions. You've got so much potential...amazing skillset. I was kind of hoping of you'd want to take over some of my work. My brother is dead, so he's not going to be doing that?"
me: "Okay, God has a brother. And he's dead. Right. So how did he die?"
old man: "Alone in his room. Everything will die eventually. You will, I will. Someday."
me: "So how do you intend to die, Mr. God?"
old man: (smiling) "Haven't decided quite yet. But I'll just blow myself away, most probably."
As we talked, I was going around poking around the environment, which was a roughly accurate rendering of the living room. I went in the bathroom and tinkered with the sink to see if it worked. The handle on the faucet cracked off.
me: (indicating handle) "Okay, master fabricator of the laws of physics and species. Can't get a faucet right? Show me some planet-scale engineering."
old man: "You want to go see some other planets I've made? All right. How 'bout I make one for you right now."
He went and quickly grabbed a bunch of items. One was a large color map of a planet...kind of cartoonish. Then he had some kind of suit for me to wear. I picked up the set of things he'd set down, and he ushered me out the door.
There was a set of things that looked like railroad cars. The doors would open and pairs of people would jump into a unit, lock themselves in, and the car would take off into the air. He signaled for me to jump into a car with another guy, and I tried to get the doors secured but it seemed like neither me nor the other guy knew what to do. I had my hand on the door from my side, but the other guy had missed his door. It seemed the only way to close my door was for it to lock to the door he didn't have a grip on.
me: (to other guy) "Okay, crap. I guess we're just going to have to hang on."
It was a bit tense as the boxy cars flew in formation higher into the sky, and I began to wonder if it intended to fly us into space. It didn't, it just sort of swooped and swerved. The old man commented from somewhere I couldn't quite see.
old man: (to someone else) "This one has quite a tension about heights. Very knotted in the back and in the neck."
The cars began to descend on some kind of commercial palace where I could see it was set up something like a museum with a lot of planet-shaped sculptures outside of it. We got close enough into the landing pattern, and I only heard one more comment before I awoke.
old man: (to someone else) "Yes, we are going on a charade..."
I took the "charade" remark to be suggesting that he was taking me to some kind of sculpture museum, or maybe a planetarium of some kind, as opposed to going to any real planets in person.
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