“Do you believe in ghosts?” the woman asked me.
I shrugged. “I believe there’s stuff around us we
can’t see. Just think about it: if you went blind
there would still be a world with people in it.
You wouldn’t be able to see it, but it
would be there nonetheless. I imagine it’s
like Timeline, the novel by Michael Crichton.
There are multiple universes and all
of them exist at once like threads in a rug.
Some of them overlap. Most of them do not.
Still, all the threads are part of the same thing: the
rug. I believe that’s what God is. God’s a rug.
We’re the threads. Without us, God is nothing and
vice-versa. Down is up. Left is right. Chaos
is order.” I took a drag from my Camel.
“Oh blow it out your ass,” she countered. “God is
not a rug. We’re not threads. You’re an idiot.”
“I don’t mean it literally,” I explained.
“Think about it like this: let’s say God is Bob
Dylan and he’s just had his motorcycle
accident. His body is barely alive.
It’s up to the cells of his body and brain
to wake him up. Otherwise he dies and all
this goes away like it never existed.”
“Bob Dylan’s God?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“No,” I said. “Well … maybe. That’s not the point, though.
I’m trying to explain how we’re all part of
the same living, breathing organism, and
that is what God is. I don’t know if it’s a
man or a woman or an alien, but…”
My words trailed off and I took a deep breath. “It’s
something,” I said, finally. “What about you?”
I asked. “What about me?” she said. “Well, what do…”