Empyrean

She is caught in the dream of heaven. She stands next to a door, so enormous, so powerful in spirit, that she can only nod in agreement at everything that is happening.

It begins, in an instant, and in all the instances, her conversation with god.

“I want to believe in you, but this is not enough. Can you understand how deep it feels in my heart? That I have felt you at every moment, but never when it mattered. I asked for guidance, for help, for a miracle, and all I got were scraps and debris. Somewhere, at some point in my life, I realized that you will never help me, but instead, simply fondle my heart with the power of your presence. Is that enough for everyone? It wasn’t for me, but I have a chance at last to ask of you just for one thing: an explanation, and after that, I will abandon you forever. Because I have decided on something much better.”

There is no answer from the white light that surrounds her, and though she is shivering, and her mouth is dry, and her tears are never ending, and the tiny size of her humanity shrivels and shrivels until she is but a roach, she still feels the most confident she has ever felt. That makes her feel both safe and unsafe, both sad and tired. She has lost what made her special, but she still can exist, only not in terms that aren’t her own.

“I can set my own,” she says after nobody answers. “I know you can hear my thoughts and I know that you are listening to my every heartbeat. But there must be something else you can do. I have very little need, in a dream, for empty words. Instead, I want actions, and I want to exist in a world where you are present in every situation, to lead me every step, to destroy whatever is an obstacle, and to give me the strength, always an ever growing strength, so that I can squash whoever is weaker and more evil than me. Does that satisfy you? I just need you to make yourself known in a way that is visible, ethereal, and material, all the time, whenever I need of it. If you do that, I will believe in you and grovel and kiss the ground.”

But the light simply remains, and she is forced, with her own impure, disgusting mind, to pull herself out of a dream, then another, and then another, until she is sweating alone in her bed. So happy she feels in her complete devastation, so insecure she feels in her cosmic loneliness, so incongruent she understands her own sense of self, who believes at the most uncertain of times, and produces nothing of value when it matters. But she knows there is a heaven that lives in her brain, and a god that won’t answer her questions, and a dance of her body, the sway of fear and aptitude, whenever she speaks and unfolds her damning feelings. In those three points, there, she formulates an idea, that will grown into an obsessions, that will grow into a future where she can feel at peace in the most demeaning way possible.