Politics and Religion

A typical question that I usually do not answer, but this time I will . . .

Sort of . . .

In fact, I'm not even going to say whether the question was about politics or religion . . .

It's getting annoying, people . . .

This, I hope, shall put it to rest . . .

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Q: Far be it from me, Mr. Allen, to ask what side of the debate you are on, but do you not feel a need to guide those who are on the wrong path, especially the younger ones?

A: If a young (or old) person is on the "wrong" path and he/she encounters me and I perceive that he/she is not someone's blind, mindless follower out to convert me or to argue pointlessly with me so as to grandstand in the name of his/her religion/political party, then I shall be more than happy to offer my guidance on any matter, even religion and politics.

"When they differ on the issue, they cannot both be right. But they can both be wrong."
--Preston L. Allen, Sunday School 1976

"The first lie is that there are two sides to the argument. Age has taught me that where politics is concerned, there are seldom two sides to the argument. Usually what we have is a debate between reason and someone else's self-interest, and self-interest, because it is unafraid to continue to deceive its base, usually wins. Thus, in politics, the odds are roughly equal in a debate between the mental giant and the mental idiot."
--Preston L. Allen, Miramar barber shop 2005

"I am bothered as much by the atheist as by the true-believer. If the true-believer is wrong, then he/she is a child still believing in Santa Claus, but why write entire books, script entire speeches, and build entire arguments to prove that Santa does not exist? When I meet children who still believe in Santa, I smile at them and say, 'Merry Christmas!' Remember, Christmas is a useful holiday whether Santa is real or not."
--Preston L. Allen, Christmas shopping 2001

"So you want to be a witch? You are now into Wicca? Good luck, young man, and enjoy the miseries that will ensue. I hold nothing against Wicca, as I hold nothing against Christianity or any other religion. However, you are in college and one day you will hold a degree and be a job seeker in a largely Christian, Jewish, and Muslim world--these religions all perceive themselves to be on the light side and perceive Wicca to be on the dark. I think you are deliberately giving yourself a disadvantage, perhaps to prove a point--young people are always out to prove points, and that in and of itself is not a bad thing, the real problem being that the young have a great deal of passion and very little discretion, and therefore they often rebel, so to speak, 'without a cause.' If you are genuine and passionate in your unusual belief, why wear it on your sleeve? I have my doubts about you, young man. Now, we both know that no Christian, Jewish, or Muslim god is going to come down and strike you if you make this decision; but no Wiccan god is going to protect you either. All of the gods, both light and dark, are too busy for that--at least the gods have been too busy for that for the last 10,000 years. Perhaps they have been sleeping. But man is neither too busy, nor sleeping. Man is wide awake. Man has idle time. Man has idle hands. Man will strike you down in the name of his god of light. If you're looking for a fight, then join the dark side. If you're truly looking for spiritual enlightenment--it's not on the outside, it's within. It's not in a religion or an anti-religion--it's in the heart and the mind. Be a good person. Be good to people, please. Don't let a god or a devil or a witch or a warlock tell you how to be good. Goodness is already in your heart. Just be good, cuz. And when you find a real cause to fight for, you know that you can count on me."
--Preston L. Allen, to a young cousin 1992


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Now please, no more religious and political questions.

Thanks,

Preston

A Gambler Dreams

Wow, this new semester is taxing me mightily with work.

I've got tons of papers to grade and I am almost finished with my latest novel, so instead of writing for my usual one hour a day, I have been writing 3 or 4, which leaves me little or no time to blog.

Sorry about that, guys.

Instead of answering emails this time, I am going to post a few weird dreams I have had and maybe you can tell me what they mean . . . maybe they represent winning lotto numbers or something.

When I finish the new book (in the next few days), I will be able to start blogging again with regularity.

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Dreams

1. I needed money to gamble and my account only had $200 in it, so I went to my youngest son, age 5 or 6 it looked like, and asked him for $400.

He said, "Okay, papa," and hopped on his bike and came back with $400.

When I saw the money, I decided to press my luck and said, "Really, son, I need another $1000."

He said, "Okay, papa," and hopped on his bike and came back with $1000.

When I saw this, I said, "Son, I really need $10,000 . . . is that okay?"

The 5-year old (who in real life is 14) said, "Okay, papa," and hopped on his bike and came back with a bag full of money. $10,000!

So I put the money in my wallet and noticing that he disapeared to use the bathroom, I snuck into his bedroom and took out his bank pass book (which no one uses these days). To my astonishment, his balance read, $300,000,000! My 5-year old was a millionaire.

Now I became very exited.

When he came out of the bathroom, I said to him, "Really, son, I need $100,000."

He said, "Okay, papa," and when he came back from the bank this time, I put the hundred grand in my wallet and headed for my car to go to the casino and gamble.

My wife stopped me at the door.

She said, "Do you not even want to know where he got the money from?"

I hadn't thought about that. "Where?" I said.

She said, "From his father."

"But I am his father."

She said, "No! Tommy is his father, and you don't even care!"

She stormed off loudly weeping and shedding big tears, and I shrugged and headed for my car. Whoever Tommy was, I would deal with that when I came back from the casino. For now it was time to gamble.

2. My father and I were on an island. I think we were stranded there. I was sooooo hungry. Somehow it came to my attention that my father was not as hungry as I was. Somehow I noticed that he was gaining weight despite being stranded on the island along with me. I begged him to tell me his secret.

He refused at first, but finally broke down and told me.

He said, "I learned this trick from years of sailing on the high seas as a merchant marine. Sometimes on the ship, we run out of food for weeks. When there is no other food, we prepare and eat our feces. But you have to do it the right way. Here, let me show you."

He took me to a tree, reached up into its leafy branches, and pulled down a square, brown cake of his feces that had been hidden up there. He handed it to me. It didn't smell so bad, but it felt heavy and solid like a rock in my hands.

"Eat up," he said. "It's not as bad as it looks."

I took a bite. It was nasty. Now inside my mouth felt like it was full of spiderwebs. And there was something crunchy in my mouth, too.

When I looked down at the cake of my father's feces, it was oozing bloody human fingers. I tried to spit it out, but the stuff was sticking to the inside of my mouth. My mouth was oozing blood.

3. I had a dream about my mother, who passed recently, and I don't remember whether she was actually in the dream or whether she was just a ghostlike voice, but she ordered me to read her journal out loud. So I read it out loud. I don't remember what I read, but she shouted very angrily, "No, don't read it in order. Read it backwards in the mirror."

I took it to the mirror and read it out loud backwards.

It read, "Hop home on your one foot, demon day. Hop home on your one foot, demon day."

I said, "Mommy, what does it mean?"

These were the words to a silly tune she used to sing to us, playfully teasing us (her sons), whenever we lost to her at checkers or some other game. I never understood these words, though as a child I used to squeal with delight when she sang them.

"What does it mean?" I pleaded.

She said, "Look in the mirror again."

I looked in the mirror again.

The mirror was cracked.


4. My daughter was in the backyard with my mother-in-law. My daughter, who is now 18, was a toddler of maybe 2 or 3 in the dream. She was wearing a little blue jeans overall dress set and a deep red shirt underneath. My daughter was lying on her back, and my mother-in-law Was trying to teach her how to pee on the grass. I heard my daughter crying pitifully and my mother-in-law shouting commands like "Shame on you," "Do it right now," "You're a big girl now, you should be able to do this."

When I looked between my daughter's legs, she had a big, black, bushy vagina, like an adult woman's vagina, and instead of urine coming out of her, she was dripping white semen.

My first impulse was to run and help her, but I slunk away in shame, hiding my eyes from her nakedness.

When I was safely inside the house, I screamed, "Leave her alone! Leave her alone!"

I listened with all my might, but I didn't hear any sounds coming from outside.

I woke up sobbing and shivering.

5. This one is the most recent. Last night I dreamt I was walking across a mattress upon which slept a large black jungle cat--a panther or something. A voice told me, "Be careful," but too late--I shook the mattress and the large predator awoke and pounced on me. He bit me hard on the hand, and having no other way to fight him, I bit him hard on the head. I don't know how I did it, but I put his entire head into my mouth and bit it, as though he were no bigger than a house cat.

Then I awoke.
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Thanks,

Preston