Suddenly there is a flash of light and I find myself lying on a tombstone in a cemetery as a terrible storm begins .

I see a church on a hill in the middle of the cemetery. People are going inside and one stands outside the front door and turns toward me . I am too far to make out his face but he waves me over as to signal me to hurry and get inside, as another flash of lightning silhouettes the church .

The closer I get , the harder it rains . It seams as if the rain is speaking to me . I can hear a faint 'shhh..' as a low rumble caresses the uneven muddy ground. The earth is like pitch , sticking to me and slowing my progress .

I can see that it is a priest that is waiting for me; An old frail little man . He greets me with an odd statement , " We haven't had a visitor in a long time." Come quickly." he says as he reaches for my hand; another flash of lightning reveals that he seams to be suffering from severe cataracts . For his eyes were milky white .

I hesitate for a moment and grab his hand . It was cold , like a wet clam . But as I squeezed his hand it turned to stone . It wasn't squeezing my hand , I just couldn't release my grip .

There was something about that tiny little stone church on the hill that disturbed me to the bone . I didn't know if it was the cold rain or outright fear that had me shaking as I crossed the threshold of the dimly lit church .

The little priest ushers me to a seat way in the back of the church . I look at him to say thank you and notice that his eyes are now a bright green and he seams to have gotten younger . Instead of saying a word, I sit with my mouth open, for a moment stupefied by what is happening .

The priest looks away... as I feel his hand turn back to flesh but pulsating with flashes of heat . The little church seams to be rumbling from the raging storm outside but it becomes clear that the sound was emanating from the little man sitting next to me , the priest !

I pull my hand away and asked him, "what type of church is this." The rumbling stops and the priest stands up and walks toward the front .

I look around at the other people sitting up front and notice that they are all wearing the clothes of other religious figures from all the 59 religions I have studied in my youth . They stand and nod as the little man passes them.

The lightning gets more severe and as it flashes I can see that the priest is growing in stature and the color of his clothes is changing from ,black to white to red .

I look at the people again and notice a stripe of either black , red or white on the different figures . Their colors don't change but Their clothes begin to form into robes with large hoods .

They are chanting something . I can barely make it out . I decide that I have to get closer to hear what they are saying . I look down to make my way to the isle and see that the ground has changed also . Faces . Faces of people praying but they have no mouths and Their eyes are sewn shut and Their ears are cut off .

I feel dread and an overwhelming sense of inadequacy . I look up at the priest and now he is an eight foot tall swirling mass of dark matter and his face is changing so fast that all I can make out is a blur .

I hear them faintly but it's not like they are chanting out loud because I hear them in my head ....ignorance , conditioning , devotion . Over and over .

The church rumbles and 'it' speaks . Not with the voice of a man but with the voice of a stadium . "I am the first and the last question that will never be forgiven ."

The people respond in unison , "who are we?"

I wake?

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