[for critique, especially as to the imagery. is this the right way to ask it? it is sort of a potential preface to a much longer story. (c) Eric Pederson, naturally]
If I could have seen God's face, I could have told His intentions. That is what I thought.
But when I looked into His face I saw only that odd accountant I knew from the office, and then a lovely aging actress, perhaps Sophia Loren; whatever happened to be lurking in my mind.
He was playing cards. It was something like a game of Blackjack atop the clouds, but with liberal rules only God could get away with. Every time he played a card, the new card became a separate hand. The cards were never totaled up, as if He were waiting for some perfect sequence. He was never at risk for going over 21.
"How do you win?" I asked, but even in my dreams God does not answer me.
My eyes were drawn to the 10 of Spades. There, in each black spade, was a unique universe of infinite galaxies, suns and worlds. Light, movement, energy and everything - the all - was right within the spade. And each spade was different.
Then He played another card, universes in its diamonds. I looked up to watch the other playing across from Him. My eyes drew back and I saw there were cross-legged Gods playing cards across the cloud tops out into the infinite.
"That is not what you want to know," He said. "What you want to know is: what is real."
"Yes," I said.
"It is all real," He continued, "for now. But only one reality can win."
"How do we win?" I asked.
"We," He asked, "or you?"
There was an awkward silence in which all that could be heard was the gentle slap of an infinite number of cards on clouds, and the barely perceptible whirring of spinning universes.
"You cannot sit here," He continued. "You are not a God."
He looked up at me and I fell into His eyes, bombarded by a million epiphanies forgotten before I woke up on a young lady's couch in San Francisco.