Today is one of the many feast days of the goddess Guanyin, she who perceives the sounds of the world, the sorrows, the cries, the anguish.
I just happen to be having an emotionally and spiritually rough day.
Part of it is my lovely menopause of course, and part is the socio-political climate of the world.
The older I get, the less tolerant of intolerance, I become. I am horrified by the way that people treat other people, other living creatures.
I had a dream last night, which was probably what began my mood today. In it, I was on a street corner, in a fantastic city, one that I didn’t recognize. I was speaking with God, the Christian God, but with the visage of the old white bearded dude that could be mistaken for a department store Santa. This of course is not the visage which the Christian God appears to me in our conversations, but for some reason, this is how he appeared on a street corner in my dream.
I can’t remember what we were talking about, it was certainly not important enough to overshadow what was about to happen.
Donald Trump and thousands of people, a sea of MAGA hats stood in front of God, not all of them wore the hats, but all of them wore a smirk, the kind of smirk that let’s you know that these are the winners, the top dogs, the ones who came out on top of the piles of bodies beneath their feet.
I did not look at God. I was facing the mob. I was staring at their smiles. I was seeing the few faces that I could recognize. I couldn’t move. But I often can’t move in my dreams.
I did not see His expression.
But I heard His voice.
“Is this a joke?”
That was it.
The entire crowd simply disappeared.
I’m pretty sure that there are many introverts who would suck God’s dick for that ability.
The dream skipped, as dreams do.
I was on a street corner, talking to Lucifer. Not the t.v. version which would have taken the dream from nightmare to actual dream, not the version that I am accustomed to in my conversations with him, but the red-skinned, horned, hooved version.
I can’t remember the conversation. Again, not important.
Again our president appeared with his coterie and stood, chest puffed out, smirking, prepared for their reward, after all, ’tis better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven, right?
But unlike with God, I turn, I look, I see Lucifer’s face, when he smirks, I see the smirks on every face in the crowd….quiver and fade.
And then, there is no simple disappearing this time. Lucifer does not play chess with God and send them packing back to our Heavenly father.
He simply repeats His words.
“Is this a joke?”
They are gone, but not gentle, but like some sort of recreation of Endgame, they disintegrate, unlike the silence of the superheroes, they scream. Their screams are horrific, and I woke up.
I thought about my dream, I understood it. Those who stood there, in front of the two leaders of two worlds, they had shown such little mercy in their lives, when it mattered. Whether it was in their personal lives, whether it was in their votes, whether it was in the words that they spouted, they did not hear the cries of the world. Or, they did not care. Or, they enjoyed them.
Whereas Guanyin fucking grew extra heads and arms with which to embrace the world, these fucking humans, considered by all worlds to be fucking amazing, committed atrocious acts of cruelty, sometimes simply by remaining silent. The divine was not asking them to grow extra limbs, the divine was asking them to be human, to show mercy, to show love, to show acceptance, to show kindness, to show all of the greatness of which we are capable.
It was an epic fail.
Or at least in my dream.
Like Pandora, I still have hope.
Okay, maybe not today.