My post is a segue from ConChapman's post: "In the Film Room with the Big Guy Upstairs"....

"So Dude, you want a smoke?"

"Sure, why not?"

He paused a moment while he rolled-up the biggest, fattest doobie I'd ever seen and then handed it to me. I stuck it in my mouth and then looked around for a lighter... but suddenly it was lit and I took a toke.

"Man, this is some heavenly shit!"

He just grinned.

"Where do you get this stuff?"

"I have good underworld connections."

"So, uh.." I mumbled, wanting to change the subject, "what about Jesus, was he really your son?"

"Yeah, by my first wife, Lucy."

"Lucy?" I asked with some skepticism.

"Yes, Lucy. It didn't work out, we weren't together all that long. You know, we were young and all that."

"Wow. I just didn't know." marveling in the revelation.

"Yeah, I don't like to talk about it much, she really took me to the cleaners with that lawyer she hired."

"Oh!" I started, the realization finally hitting me.

"Go ahead, ask me to tell you a lawyer joke. Really" he said, "I know 'em all..."

"Okay, tell me a lawyer joke..."

"Why won't a shark bite a lawyer?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"I dunno, why?"

"Professional courtesy!" he belted out laughing.

I rolled my eyes but I tried not to let him see.

"What's the difference between a dead rattlesnake and a dead lawyer in the road?"

I shook my head again.

"There'll be *skid marks* in front of the snake!" he chortled.

I rolled my eyes again. This time he caught me and the joint in my hand burst into flames and vanished into a cloud of ashes. I must have looked a little shaken up because then he grinned again and suddenly the joint was back in my hand. I took another toke and closed my eyes for a second to clear my head.

"So getting back to that whole image thing" I started, "do you actually change your shape and appearance for each person or is it simply an illusion formed in their own mind?"

"What's the difference" he asked prophetically. After a short pause he continued, "Well, you know, it would be a hassle to have to change my shape all the time. Besides, what if two of you see me at one time? That presents some tricky problems. Kind of like a chameleon trying to do plaid. But more to the point, I am the manifestation of what people *want* to see, and that really is the key point. Reality is whatever you make it to be. Nothing more, nothing less. You exist, and therefore I exist, because you expect me to."

I took another hit and sat back to let that thought settle in.

"Man, that is some profound shit!" I exclaimed.

"Yeah, thanks" he said off-handishly, "I've been working on that little gem for awhile and just wanted to try it out on somebody."

"So what is your plan" I asked.

"My plan?" he looked puzzled, "My plan" he said again.

"You know, your plan for the future" I offered helpfully.

"Oh, that." he brightened, "Well, I'm going on vacation at the end of the decade. Figured I'd book a tour on one of those cruises and get away for a bit."

"That sounds, ummm-- good." I mumbled, clearly perplexed at his answer. "I thought you were omnipresent...?"

"Only at parties." he chuckled.

"Omniscient?"

"Its a parlor trick" he nodded conspiratorially.

"Well, what about omnipotent?" I asked.

"Only if I haven't showered in a few days!" he laughed.

"So... then... ummm... what are you? Are you anything?" I asked.

His expression turned serious and he looked at me studiously. Then he spoke, picking his words carefully...

"I am what you made me to be. I am the mirror of your soul and spring forth out of your longing for guidance, companionship and answers. When you need me to be powerful, I am powerful. When you need me to listen, you have my complete attention. When you need a shoulder to lean on, I am here."

"Bu--" I started to object. He cut me off and continued.

"You believe that you are created in my image, and thus you are. And I, in turn, am given form and substance by your belief. And I assume the form of your belief and am constrained by your limits and inhibitions."

I just stood there trying to take all of this in.

"I am what you make me to be. You believe in me, and I believe in you. Together we are eternally entangled, and we are both observers and the observed."

Then he stopped talking and looked at me for a bit. And finally he smiled.

"When you wake up you'll think this was all a dream. Maybe it was, who knows. Reality, the world and the universe all around you, is all an illusion-- an elaborate illusion-- but an illusion all of the same. It is what you make it, how you perceive it and what you want it to be. Here's a little secret, there is no 'heaven' or 'hell'. Those are boxed constructs of your own imagination. The only 'heaven' or 'hell' that truly exists is the one you create."

"Well, what about doing good works and charity and all of that?" I asked.

"That is up to you to decide, not me. After all, I am just an extension of you-- your imagination. Therefore I have only the qualities that you possess yourself, that you grant yourself, and that you wield yourself. It is up to you to decide whether I am a sword or a plough and direct me accordingly."

Man, I thought to myself, that's some heavy shit-- then it occured to me that it *was* all shit-- a cop out. Here I was talking to God about the great matters of the universe and he was copping out. I went to call him on it.

"All that mumbo-jumbo about you being me and me being you and reality being whatever it is-- that's just a cop out. You're God, why are you copping out?" I asked intently.

He just smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and said "I am what you make me to be."

And then I woke up.

"Man, I had the strangest dream..."