Dark George

Suddenly, he had the best hearing that he ever could remember. Bird song, a far-away dog barking, traffic on the nearby road, it all had a closeness, a clarity, as never before. The world was almost musical. He opened his eyes and his sight was also working extremely well. The colors, the hues, it was astonishing! 

“My God, look at that sky! Has it ever been that gorgeous before?”

“Wait! What was going on?”

He could smell everything better as well. Most scents were great; trees and running water in a stream nearby. Then there were some not so great smells like the horrible body odor of the big guy that was hovering over him, and fuel? He could smell much gasoline? What was that guy doing?

He lifted his head and the effort went much too smoothly. Something was wrong. He sprung up like a muscular athlete. Why had he been laying here? He looked back and almost stumbled with astonishment. HE WAS STILL LAYING THERE! His mind tangled with the reality even though his brain somehow was exceedingly clear. How could he be standing beside himself and a big guy was trying to massage his heart? The guy was a cop! “This has got to be a dream or something.”

Another guy came running up. He had one of those electric heart starter machines. “I gotta be dreaming this. Wait, maybe that wasn’t me down there. That guy was pretty messed up. Was that his motorcycle lying over there? Looks like this poor guy slid for quite a while. Both of his legs and arms looked like they were seriously broken and, wait, that is my bike and that IS ME LYING THERE!”

“HOW? This can’t be! Is this real? Looks like the guy with the heart starter just got it hooked up.”

CLEAR! WACK!

“Ow-w-w that hurt!”

CLEAR! WACK!

“Ow-w-w that really hurt! Stop it! You don’t have to do this! I am fine!”

CLEAR! WACK.

It worked! George hit pitch black like a diver striking a water surface after much too high a dive. He tried to dog paddle, but there was no surface to paddle to. He choked, but there was no water to spit out and no air to inhale. George looked this way and that but there wasn’t anything to see in fact there was no direction to look. George panicked as all of his phobias converged.

He struggled in absolute terror, claustrophobia mixed with agoraphobia, monster howling mixed with complete silence, being crushed but in a free fall over an endless void. George screamed into the silence and he didn’t even hear his own voice. He was in complete darkness. A horrible thought came.

“THIS IS HELL! I am dead and I went to Hell. Nothing can be more horrible than this.” George thrashed about but now he wasn’t even certain if he had arms to thrash with. Where was he now anyway? 

After seconds or decades, (George couldn’t tell), he gave up. What could he do but give up? George just floated, falling, flying, sinking, he wasn’t certain.

Maybe Hell is where God says to the unrepentant, “OK, you wanted your own world according to your own rules, so here, have it, forever”. So the sinner floats in nothingness, according to their own rules. Whatever the case, this inky nothingness couldn’t just leave him alone. Depression suddenly struck hard and wrapped itself around George like a giant anaconda. George had no will to fight so it bit him and crushed him with George offering no defense.

“Let me die!” But George would not die.

Forever tortured, it could have been hours, it could have been centuries. There was no time piece. There was no distance gage. Sometimes the nothing was a hellishly roasting darkness, wrought in a demonic furnace of pain. The searing heat would only be interrupted by bone chilling cold, where teeth chatter and dogs howl. Any vestige of humanity left in George was tortured down to instinctual responses only. Eventually, there were no memories. There were was no thinking, no imagination, only excruciating pain, heat, cold and darkness.

Then came an EVENT! George was navigating in thoughtless emptiness when a word flashed in the darkness, A VOICE!

“You are George.”

At this point, George had lost everything. If it wasn’t for the pain, he would have had nothing at all. George was too surprised to respond. It repeated itself.

“You are George.”

That was all it said, that one little sentence. The shock of the event was an epiphany to George though. For a moment George didn’t have the ability even to realize if the voice was masculine, feminine, harsh, musical, did it speak in English or another language? The event was so giant that George was rendered to dumbly repeating.

“Yes, I am George!”

His entire darkness had hiccupped. Yes, he was a being! This was a very good event! It was the only good in a sea of non-good!  He excitedly repeated the reality over and over again.

“I…I am George.”

“Wait, someone, something just talked to me!”

Was the talk only with himself? George puzzled over this. No it wasn’t only with himself. Something, someone, just said something to him, or did it? Foolishly, George tried to look around in the darkness as if that would help.  George saw no body, neither his nor anyone else’s. Was someone else in this darkness with him? The thought was both frightening and exciting. 

“Hello? Is anyone out there?

No answer came in the darkness, only the continuing, searing pain. For once, George was too excited to focus on the pain.

“Hello?  Hello, is anybody out there?”

“Hello”

George was stunned!  Someone answered out of the darkness!

“Hello? Hi! Who are you”?

“I am that I am?”

What did that mean?  Again, George desperately tried to look around in the darkness.  Of course, he saw nothing.

“Please,” George pled. “Please don’t play with me. Who are you, where are you?”

“We need to take this step by step,” was the warm, comforting, answer.  “So don’t be afraid for I am with you always.”

“You are with me, where?”

“I am with you here, don’t be afraid.”

“Are you God?”

“Yes, I am the only God.”

George suddenly had a memory overwhelming him right there in the darkness. It was a clear picture of when he was only a little kid. He had looked up into the sky, sitting on the swing in his backyard one beautiful morning, and he asked God if he was really there.

The voice in the darkness whispered to George now, “I answered you, do you remember?”

“Uh, no I don’t.”

“Yes you do. Just, over the years you conveniently forgot.”

THEN GEORGE UNQUESTIONALLY REMEMBERED!

The stunning pictures made George completely forget his pain. George remembered how he had laughed and cried, how he had sung on the swing and rhymed, with music and beauty, there alone, a little kid in his family back yard.

“That was you and me communicating God,” George had to admit.

“No one can say that I don’t exist George, they all know that I do.”

“Yeah!” This conversation was strange yet somehow comforting.  

They both were silent for a bit. The notion of having a companion was so pleasant that George enjoyed the silence. This was so-o-o-o good. Then a nagging issue flashed in George’s mind.

“God, am I in hell?”

“No” was the simple answer. It had some sort of healing effect on George, as simple as it was. The question triggered memories that rushed in, the bike accident, the cop!  George puzzled in the darkness. 

“Then where am I?”

The answer was not verbal. Rather, the answer was an action.

A pure, little, white light appeared in the darkness. For the first time, George saw something. George had no concept of distance so he thought that it was a cute little dot near him. He reached out but touched nothing. As George tried to comprehend this thing, repeatedly trying to touch it, he had his first notion of distance. He realized that the light was far away. Then George had his first sound. There was a distant sound of rushing wind as the light began to dramatically grow in size. It was a spotlight and it rushed at George at an astonishing speed, directing a light beam this way and that as if from a helicopter speeding in the night. It came, searching for something, someone. George saw from reflected light that he was floating in a giant cavern or something like that. There were creatures down below him, briefly illuminated by the rushing glare as it sped past them, but George could only make out vague forms. They could have been monsters, they could have been other humans, George couldn’t tell. Then, the light shone over him just for a second. It sped past but came to a screeching halt. The light shone back at him. Then it was upon him and stayed on him.

GEORGE WOKE UP!

If the pain in the darkness had been horrible then the pain that he now had was impossibly worse. Now his body was a thousand torturer’s tools, ripping and tearing. He was breathing open flame. With this new pain, George’s soul went into convulsions. Strangely though, his body didn’t move. He could only look up, above him, at the ceiling.

“Oh my God! You who I just talked to! Please, help me!”

A woman’s face came into his line of sight. Her face was flushed. She said something to George, but he couldn’t hear her.

“What?”

She kept trying to talk to George. She looked like a nurse.

“What are you saying?”

Another woman rushed into George’s line of sight. She obviously was some sort of medical person as well. Both women stared at George. He tried to talk to them but they seemed to not be able to communicate. They kept messing with him as George desperately tried to say something, anything. Out of frustration, George got angry.

“Look, I’m trying to talk to you here!”

They were doing something to George out of his line of sight. Then George realized that HE COULDN’T FEEL WHAT THEY WERE DOING TO HIM! Worse yet, George suspected that he was stark naked! He couldn’t tell for sure but he suspected it. Was he just lying there for everyone to inspect like meat?

“Hey, could you give me a blanket or something! I am naked as a jay bird here!” One of the women had been bathing him. She still had the sponge thing. Something important seemed to just have happened though because more and more people were coming in to look at him. What was this? Why couldn’t George hear them talk? Why did someone else need to wash him, and he was still laying there naked as if he had just been born, and as helpless?

“Hey, seriously, could you, like, get me a blanket?”

The poking and prodding seemed to go on forever. (Now at least, George had some concept of time). More people, men, women, all touching without permission as he could helplessly do nothing to object. He couldn’t feel a thing in return. The humiliation of it all, “Hey people, don’t you all have any respect?”

The trauma of his paradigm change must have exhausted George. Even with the poking around, George fell asleep. It was only a little nap but George dreamed that he was back in his darkness, and it was oddly comforting. Then he snapped awake to his disappointment.

George tried to look around but he couldn’t move his head. As far as George could tell, no one was near him any longer after his nap. George could only move his eyes. At least he wasn’t in hell. Now though, what was this existence?

“Hello, you that I talked to in the darkness. Are you still there?”

There seemed to be no answer, but George sensed that there was static blocking communication, so there must have been something out there. George thought of an early 1900s industrial age radio operator on a coal fired ship in the middle of the Atlantic, trying to pick up a message to the glow of vacuum tubes around him.

“Calling all ships at sea and stations on the earth?”

The response was only static. George needed to talk with someone. He was really HELPLESS! George sensed the anaconda of depression that had found him in the darkness now lurking here. It frightened him. George really needed to talk. Maybe, this mind talk technology went back before even microphones existed. Let’s try Morse code.

“God .--.----.., are -..-.., you -.-----..-, out ---..--, there -……-.., ? ..--..“

Answer: only static, ghost shadows bouncing over a storming Atlantic. Like a radio operator, he tried again.

“God .--.----.., are -..-.., you -.-----..-, out ---..--, there -……-.., ? ..--..“

No answer, only static.

Suddenly an answer burst into his thoughts in 3D with full color spectrum, but very different than when they talked in the darkness.

“I am with you always. However, communication was hindered by the opposition. We have overcome it.”

“Hello, whew, glad to talk, an opposition?”

“Yes.”

“Why is there someone opposing our communication?”

 “We will need to talk to this issue later, but speak to me concerning what is in your thoughts now.”

“Uh-yeah.”

George needed to reset his mind, yes, the poking and prodding, the humiliation.

“God, look at me.”

“I am with you now.”

George moved his eyes back and forth, trying to take in as much of his room as he could.

“Yeah, where?”

“I am speaking to you now George.”

“Ah, yeah.”

“George, you want to talk to me about your current state of affairs.”

“Yeah I do. God I am helpless here, you are all powerful, right?”

“Yes I am and I am intimately concerned about you.”

“Well then, duh, heal me!”

Silence.

“Hey, what, you hung up?”

Silence.

“Hey, oh no you don’t. You hung up because you can’t heal me!”

The hang up made George very angry so he decided not to talk to God for a while. He could do the silent treatment as well.

Sleep was George’s only escape now, so he did it much. When he was awake, often rudely awakened from beautiful dreams where George ran, sang and laughed, awakening to a most dreary existence. People talked to him but he didn’t hear a thing. They rolled him over, messed with him, washed him, fed him and wiped him. It was so humiliating.  George was angrier than ever at God. Sometimes George went into rage. Then he actually screamed at God.

“God, you can heal me of this, but you won’t! Why? You torturing bastard!”

Silence.

There were some people that came to visit that George liked. A young niece came often. She had always been very special to him. She would read books to him for hours and though George couldn’t hear a word, the act meant much to him. Then there were people that George absolutely despised. There was a nurse that would grimace at him, roll her eyes, and act like George was just a piece of meat, (which he had to admit,) actually was all that he was. This really bothered George.

Since he couldn’t even turn his head, all reality that he had was within his line of sight. When the pokers and prodders rolled him over he at least could glance at the room that he was in. It seemed to be some sort of hospital. What did that matter though? He was so helpless. This was all so stupid. Why couldn’t he just die? The depression anaconda came to visit George often.  

Once when that crushing snake was biting George particularly horribly, George couldn’t help but call out.

“Hello God, are you still here?”

“Yes.”

“So, why can’t I just die?  Look at this.”

“Because that is not your decision.”

“Well, it is your decision isn’t it? Make it happen then.”

Silence

“God, come on. What kind of life is this?”

“It is your life George.”

“What kind of crap answer is that?”

Silence

George was angry again. What could he do though? Initially he raged at no one and everyone. What good did that do? Eventually, all that he could do about his reality was to sleep. So he went to sleep as often as possible. It wasn’t long though, before the pokers and prodders came and woke him up again.

On day George had a thought as they were messing with him. It was his life after all. As pathetic as it was, it still was his. So what could he do with it? As George thought about this God did something unusual. He invaded George’s thoughts without George first inviting him.

“You have one thing that very few people can claim, even healthy people, George.”

George was not displeased by the invasion.

“Yeah God, what is that?”

“Well isn’t it obvious?”

“Uh, no?”

“George, you are having an active conversation with the living God, the creator and maintainer of the universe!”

“You have a point there.”

Silence

“So, like God, we can just hang out and talk?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Really?”

“Yes, very much.”

The thought was pleasing. “God, with all of the stuff going on, wars, famines, political stuff, you wanna talk to me?”

Then George heard it, A LAUGH. God was laughing at him!

“George, I am omnipresent.”

“Omni-what?”

“Well George, we’ll need to talk about that.”

Silence

“Ok, can we start hanging out now?”

“That would be fantastic George.”

“Ok, then I have some questions for you. Did you really make all of the universe?”

“Yes we did in six, literal, twenty four hour periods.”

“Wow, we better talk about that.”

“Ok.”

So began another new existence. This one was much better than the other two. George and God talked and talked. HE WAS TALKING DIRECTLY TO GOD! Often he completely forgot the pain, the unfriendly nurse, or the fact that he was helpless. George couldn’t believe what he was learning and wow, there was much learning to do. He asked about everything.

Question: God can you make a rock too heavy for you to pick up?

Answer: I am that I am and a merry go round answers nothing.

Question: How can a loving God allow war?

Answer: I gave free will to all people and if you wish to hurt someone, they get hurt. Stop hurting people.

Question: What if a person sincerely believes in something other than you.

Answer: Sincerity is not the determination of reality, it is what you sincerely believe in that matters. You could be sincerely wrong.

AND SO IT WENT.

One morning George woke up after a particularly strange dream. “God did you give me that dream”?

“No George, that came from your own heart.”

“H-m-m-m”.

They talked about it for quite a while.

George had dreamed that he was standing in some sort of armor. It wasn’t shining knight in King Arthur’s court stuff, his armor was battle worn, grimy, some of it only was heavy leather. George sensed that he had been there for quite a while. He was at some sort of a dirt cross roads. The scene seemed rather rural, but for some reason the crossroads seemed rather important. Every now and then, an orc, troll, or demon would come along and demand passage. George wouldn’t let him of course. They would fight. Sometimes the enemy would win and sometimes George would win. If the monster won, George would get kicked into the dirt and the enemy would go on his way. When George won, the enemy would have to turn back and not be able to continue to whatever mischief he had intended. 

“God, what does it mean?”

“This is an important day George.”

“Important?”

“Your heart is telling an important matter but be careful about your heart?”

“Be careful of my heart?”

“Yes, a human heart can be horribly evil, but with my touch, they are made into beautiful powers for good.”

“God, you have to touch hearts to make them good?”

“Yes.”

“Can you touch mine?”

“I will, right now.”

George didn’t feel anything. Brain synapses upon synapses were working though. It dawned upon George suddenly, that something deep inside of him had changed. He needed to ask about it though, but he didn’t quite know how, so he nibbled around the edges.

“God, am I worthless?”

“George, your life is a direct gift from me to you. Nothing that I do is purposeless.”

”Yeah, but look at me, just lying here.”

“George, why do you try my patience so?”

“What?”

“George, you are regularly having conversations with God, the creator and maintainer of the universe.”

“Yeah, but…”

“George, how obvious do we need to be here?”

“What?”

“Do you realize the power that you have? Whatever that you ask in my name, so that I may be glorified, I will do it.”

“Are you serious, whatever I ask of you, you will do?”

“George, there is that evil human heart again. That is not what the Bible says, it says that whatever you ask that glorifies God, will be done.”

“Oh, so, like God, I have a nephew that keeps fighting with suicide.”

“Yes, Stanley, I know him well.”

“Yeah, God can you touch him for good?”

“Yes, I just did.”

“Really?”

“George, are you questioning God?”

“Oh, no! You touched him?”

“Yes, right now.”

“Does he know that it is you?”

“Yes, of course. Do you have any other requests?>

“Uh, yeah.”

George was overwhelmed for a bit.

“My boss has a broken heart because she found out that her daughter was foolishly working as a nude dancer at an area bar.”

“OK George, what do you want to ask of me here?”

As George thought, he realized that he had a purpose! YES, HE PILE OF MEAT GEORGE, had a purpose! Before long, he was talking to God constantly about everything.

“God, please help my city. People are hurting each other all the time, crime is everywhere.”

“Ok George, I know this and it grieves me much, what should we do?”

George realized that he was doing just like in his dream! He was standing, swinging his sword. Fighting evil. “I WILL BE DARK GEORGE, THE PRAYER FIGHTER. I WILL STAND ON THE ROAD! THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A PERSON OF NO VALUE! I will ask God!”

Now George often went days with little sleep until God had to gently admonish him about needing sleep. There was so much to ask God for and talk to him about. George, (the pile of meat George), was incredibly busy. HE WAS DARK GEORGE, THE FIGHTER!

One day, as George prepared to take his stand on the empty road again, just as a side thought, he tried to get up out of bed, AND IT WORKED. George jumped up expertly like a well-trained athlete.

“WAIT, I have done this before!”

George looked back, and there he was, still lying on the bed.

“I have done this before!”

George looked around in his room. It was a standard hospital with equipment everywhere. The bed that he was both standing next to and lying on was conventional, hospital, steel and sheets. A monitor on the wall showed a flat line and an alarm was buzzing insistently.

George was surprised at himself. It felt like he was junking an old car. Nostalgic feelings were involved, but it was time to move on. His body looked so used up. A nurse ran in. George knew that they were going to use that heart thing and George didn’t want to go through all this again. He had places to go. George left as fast as he could go, looking for the up escalator. He had a personal friend to meet, face to face.