The Power of the Mind

The power of the mind

I was driving home from work.  A long day of work.  The kind of day you want to forget and relax at home.  So I was speeding.  I was going as fast as my rusty, banged up '82 Mustang LX would take me, which was a laughable 90 something miles per hour.  I weaved through traffic, lane to lane.  Around the last of the evening rush.  I whipped passed an old lady driving a new Buick.  I cruised around a couple of high school girls going to a party.  I careened passed a middle aged realtor re-applying make up.  Finally, the fast lane opened up. 

It was a gorgeous, warm Friday evening dusk.  The sun was just starting to lick the horizon with it's solar limbs.  Hell, I was going to enjoy it.  I lit a cigarette, turned off my A/C, (which I couldn't believe still worked), and rolled down my window.  Ahhhhh.....yea.  That was the stuff right there.  I wish this was a convertible.  Screw it, I'll roll down my passenger window too.

Well, that turned out to be a bad decision.  The worst one conceiveable.

As I leaned over to roll down the mechanical window, my steering wheel came off in my hand.  Yep, I wouldn't kid you.  Like the s.o.b. didn't have a single screw holding it in.  I knew it!  I just knew this ol' beater worked a little too well.  It had high mileage, rusty exterior, and evidence of several fender benders.  I knew it was too good to be true, but of all the original factory parts of this thunder tank to break first, why the hell did it have to be my steering wheel?!  And while I'm driving like a coroner to Anna Nicole Smith's house at that!

My car began to veer to the left.  It quickly struck the concrete barricade dividing  opposing lanes of traffic on the interstate.  This caused my rust bucket to become airborne.  You know, I've always wanted to get some extreme air in a car or truck, but now.......not so much.

The wanna be muscle car rotated skywise over the barricade into opposing traffic.  I clearly remember taking a drag of my cigarette while staring stupidly at the steering wheel  functioning uselessly in my hand.  That's the last image I saw on Earth.  My Mustang collided with an oil rigger eighteen wheeler.  Witnesses claim to have seen the other driving flipping me the bird moments prior to impact.  The rescue squad picked up pieces of my arms, legs and torso close to a quarter mile away.  My head was either not found, or no longer recognizable as a body part.

This is where the story gets fun.

I found myself in a large, white, windowless room.  Well, it was more of an eggshell white, but I'm not certain that really matters.  I conducted a 360 degree recon of the room to find it completely empty.  Aside from me of course.

"Trent.", a voice called out from directly behind me.

Holy crap!  I damn near jumped out of my skin.  I turned to look and see who it was.  Don't ask me to describe him to you, because I can't.  I'm not even certain it was a "him" at all.  Just know that the figure I was facing was God.

"You have not shown faith in me.  Why should I allow you into my kingdom?", he asked rather softly.

"Why not?"  This was my first response.  After 3.476656 seconds, it occured to me that may not have been the most appropriate answer, and would probably result in unfavorable action on his part.  So I rattled off some hibbity bibbity about the effects of enviroment on someone growing up and how I can't be held accountable.  This seem to soften his face even more.

Then, I began to get a little cocky.  I made a couple of snide remarks regarding why he even had to ask me that if you is really God.  I was even so bold as to point out that if God really had no intention to let me into heaven, he would have sent me priority express straight to Hell.  I don't think God appreciated my tone very well, because he left.  Just like that.  He left me in that room, alone.  Jeez, what a crybaby.

After several days, (at least it felt like days) chillin by myself, practicing my kung-fu, solo style, I got a little irritated.

"God, come back here!  I've got a challenge for you!", I yelled daringly.

Zing! Zang! Paddle Dally! Poof!  He was there.  Didn't look at all too happy about being challenged by a peckerwood mortal, but he showed, and I guess that's what counts.

"I'm still not convinced God exists.", I defiantly stated.  "If you really are God, grant me full use of my brain."

Ding! Dong! Willy Whacker! Snap!  I had full control of my brain.  I closed my eyes to absorb my new strength.  I slowly opened them, stared directly at God, and said without moving my lips, "Now do something that I can't."

Then I woke up.  Safe and sound in my own bed.  My Mustang parked safely in my driveway.  And without full use of my brain. 

I told my Uncle Ethan, an Athiest, about the dream.  He sat and reflected for quite a while before simply stating, "You know, that's the kind of statement Satan was known to have made."

Oh crud.