So here I am sitting in church.
“Wait, didn’t you say you had a dream about God last night?”
Someone to my left asks me this. In point of fact, I had a dream I died. Went through the whole tunnel of light thing. A space-alien voice, like a prerecorded robot female telephone operator says, “And I started moving faster and faster.” And right away, I make that God has everyone on a string, like the Krishnas believe, and when he pulls up…that’s death.
But I don’t tell the guy any of this.
In front of the church, on either side of the altar, the pastor and some other rube is sitting, and I make I should get up out of the pew, and so I go up to them and the pastor smiles at me, great, awesome gape of a grin…
“Hey, don’t you remember your instructions?”
He smiles. Secretly, I hate and fear the man, as his withering contempt is somehow frightening to me. But, it looks like his church has fallen on hard times. The decor is the same, but this business with two tables set up for communion…I don’t understand.
He hands me a sprig of grapes. I suppose this is the untrammeled body of Christ. Or maybe, like the ancient hymn, He is trampling out the vintage.
(“In the lilies of the valley, Christ was born across the sea, with a splendor in his bosom that transfigured you and me…”
I wake up with this in my head. Something about these lyrics…
“As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free…”
Our God is marching on. )
I look at them, rather nonplussed. He is sitting in what looks like a lawn chair. It’s all very casual. This is communion?
My grandfather is leaning over the table on the right. I walk up behind him, and he hands over a clear plastic Dixie cup spilling over with wafers. The Body of Christ? I think to myself, disgustedly.
“Don’t you remember your instructions?” His question kept reverberating inside my skull. I had dreamed, the night before, that God had everyone on an invisible cord, like the silver cord spiritualists claim connects the astral body and the physical body to keep them from separating on the earth plane. And when we die? He simply pulls the cord, like pulling the plug.
We go up, up, up…through the tunnel of light. “Faster and faster,” claimed the cyborg-like voice.
Faster and faster.
But, I couldn’t, at any rate, remember whatever it was my instructions were supposed to be.
And I was separated from God.
And maybe we explode like a burning flame, flicker out like a dying star. And maybe we are trampled like the vintage, like the grapes of wrath…
And maybe, and maybe, and maybe so…