I had a weird dream the other night. Here you go:
I was walking across a wide wooden bridge that spanned a river between two hills. The bridge was new, made of fresh pine, and the wood was golden and smooth. It wasn’t high above the river, only about twenty feet. It was a wide bridge though, as wide as the boardwalk in Atlantic City or Ocean City, Maryland. The railings of the bridge, and support lattice below it, reflected a painstaking arcitechutre that encouraged those travesing the bridge to stray from the middle, and investigate what ran below their feet. There were quite a few people walking across, and around, on the bridge. The bridge seemed to be a place of interest for some, a gathering place for others, and a way from one point to another for the rest. People passed me as I passed others who were passing even more that were standing around and talking.
Behind me was a large building that felt as if it were some type academic structure. The building eminated reason and open thought. It was brick and had large, dark, glass windows. The building was essentially rectangular, though every now and then, on each level, one of the windows wrapping around the building was pushed outward, allowing an enclosed balcony of sloped brick, and dark glass.
On the other side of the bridge a path progressed up the hill, narrowing all the way. Just before the path disappeared around the side of the top of the hill, it was only a few feet wide. The paths that ran from the archway of the building and the side of the hill were both dirt, and looked as if they had been worn from the grass on the sides of the paths over time.
I was walking on the bridge from the building towards the hill path on the other side. My feet made quiet thunks on the planks that were nailed diagonally across the bridge. The wind blew the scent of freshly brushed tar from the pylons below the bridge. The bridge snaked at sharp angles at various intervals. The bridge appeared to be a few hundred feet long, and I had made my way across most of it when I saw a man standing above all the other bridge walkers. I ventured in his direction, curious to see why he was so tall. As I approached I saw that he was preaching to the small group that had gathered around him. He had on a floppy, dirty hat. His face was covered with stubble, and he was wearing a trenchcoat over shabby clothes. His face was wrinkled and old, but his eyes were alive with anger. Tiny bubbbles formed at the corners of his mouth as he ranted to the curious and fatihful. Having no interest in being condemned for being an Athiest I decided to move beyond the angry man on the saopbox, slowing my stride only momentarily to get a better look at him. He quickly caught my eye and chastised me for moving on instead of staying to listen to what he had to say. I furrowed my brow and shook my head, but kept moving forward, choosing to ignore, rather than argue. It wasn’t long beofre he went back to his flock, and I was out of earshot.
As I was coming to the end of the bridge, ready to head into the hills, another man in a trenchcoat stopped me. This man was much younger looing, and his eyes held something friendly within them. He was red haired, and his beard was a deep ochre shade. He spoke.
“Why did you walk past the other man?”
“I have no interest in hearing what he had to say,” I said in a matter of fact tone.
“Are you an atheist?”
I was a bit shocked, but I responded, “I am, and that I don’t think it would have been fruitful at that time to engage him, as atheists are not regarded very highly by anyone but atheists.”
“Are you sure you are an atheist?”
“I’m sure,” I said with relaxed confidence.
“Would you still be an atheist if I could prove God existed?”
“I’d have to maintain my skeptecism until then.”
Suddenly the bearded man broke into a great smile, “We have been looking for someone like you all day, and it is very important that you listen to me. God does exist, and he is sickened at how some of his so-called followers have become and behaved. I am an angel, and you need to watch everyone on the bridge be chosen by their god.”
“You haven’t proven that you are an angel, or that God existed.”
With that he took one of his hands out of his trenchcoat pocket, evened it with the level of my chest, and holding his hands a few inches in front of me, lifted me into the air.
“You can now fly (sweet!) and you can see everything I need to show everyone. God needs an atheist to maintain a level of objectivity in what I am about to do.”
The angel pointed to the academic building back on the other side of the bridge. I flew there quickly, with a few dips, loops, and dives along the way, before gently alighting on the top of one of the outcropped windows.
From my vantage I could see the angel walking toward the center of the bridge. He stood at the center, faced the side of the bridge and lifted his hands toward the ends. Large piles of dirt formed at either end so that no one could get around or climb over them. The building I was on was also pushed backward away from the bridge as the groud shook with tremendous force. The hill on the other side of the bridge was being shaken into a level pile of loose dirt, to match what looked like a freshly turned field on my side of the bridge.
The angel flew over to me, while a great voiced bellowed from all around, “For too long you have interpreted your devotion to me as you saw fit. Some of you have done horrible things in my name, and it pains me to witness all of it. I will no longer exist as the dichotomus deity who serves to rain fire and brimstone on those you disagree with while you claim eternal promised shelter in an everlasting paradise. Your paths have been chosen.”
With those words, the dirt fields started pushing upward, as the piles blocking the ends of the bridge began to erode away. On the far side of the bridge, the dirt started revelaing a great structure being shoved out of the earth. The structure resembled ancient Greek architecture. The building was made completely of white marble, and had a semi circular shape. There were steps on the inside of the semi circle, leading to a promenade of columns that surrounded the top of the semi circle. The space between either side of the arch was a great marble courtyard, with a fountain in the middle.
On the side of the academic building, sharp iron spires quickly rose from the dirt. A gothic cathedral emerged, covered with wrought iron, and flying buttresses attached like ribs to a metallic skeleton. Gargoyles and rivets covered the extereior, while a large iron fence, with demonic faces, and more sharp iron spikes surrounded the outside.
The people on the bridge watched as the dirt slid off the sides of each structure, and their faces were rigid with fear at the very sound of the voice. They turned their heads away from the blackened sky that billowed and swirled around the roof of the cathedral, red lightning dancing like fire between the clouds. Though, they could not bear to look at the magnificent yellow sun and spectacular blue skies that held steady above the courtyard on the other side of the bridge.
The angel beside me spoke, “Do you believe yet?”
“Not really. Sorry.”
“Good, that’s why we chose you.”
A new voice boomed now, much like the old one, but with more anger. It was the voice of an infuriated parent, ready to dole out punishment to an incourageable child. The image of a face appeared in my head with the sound of this voice. It was the face of an old man with raven-black hair, and deep, hollow eyes. The wrinkles on his face were deep and dark, his beard was grey, and showed only his fierce teeth flashing inside his mouth. “Those of you who chose to follow a strict adherence to my laws, judge those who did not, and expect punihsment for those who trangressed against those laws by not living as you did will now have to deal with the god you promised them. Your obeisance will be rewarded with another moment of life. Your sins will be punished with unending pain.” People on the bridge, including the preacher on the soapbox, were being pulled toward the cathedral by a force that wa beyond them. An invisible had was grabbing these people by the chest, under the arms, and by their heads, and pulling them, with their heels dragging across the boards of the bridge, into the open gates of the cathedral.
Another voice spoke now. It was similar to the original voice, but much softer, and it bore no resemblance to the voice that had just finished speaking. This voice brought with it the image of a face with peppered hair, and a speckled beard. The face was smiling, and had round tinted sunglasses on. I laughed at how much this looked like Jerry Garcia in my mind’s eye. “For those of you who have done your best, and wished that others try their best, welcome. We can discuss what it will take to move us forward, and forward for the benfit of all people. I am the god who gave you pizza. Pizza!” Everyone that had been left on the bridge began walking toward the courtyard at the other end of the bridge. As they approached, the fountain started flowing, and colored banners rolled down from the tops of all the columns.
The angle spoke again, “Choose which god will represent the atheists. Be fair in considering how all athiests would feel.”
“Though the god of pizza made a strong argument, I would still have to choose to respectfully remain agnostic, though no longer atheistic.”
The angel smiled. “You can keep the ability to fly,” he spoke as he slowly disappeared.
I leapt from the building, soared past the cathedral, and swooped over the bridge. I was about to bank over the railing and loop under the bridge to see the river, but then I really had to go to the bathroom, and I woke up. Any analyses?
