I just woke from a nap, and I had a strange and beautiful dream. I was sitting at a table in a very old, very grand library, and an old man seated nearby was explaining, with a thick Spanish accent, the nature of the library to another man. He said that it was a collection of miracles. He said, "listen closely to what I am about to read to you", and then he reached forward and pressed the "record" button on a cassette machine before him.
I don't remember exactly how it went went, but it was a short prose poem about the return of Jesus Christ.
"...and as He strode across the sky He was followed by His cats great and small, first black and brown, then grey, then white, and then red and blue and oh! every color, and together they boiled and surged down through the cool evening air and into the cool turquoise water and then they dwindled, faded, into darkness."
The old man says to the second man, "well, what do you think of that?" and the second man says (and I'm thinking the same thing) "well, it's not doggerel, but it's not great either, certainly nothing miraculous."
The old man reaches forward and presses "stop" on the cassette machine, and then presses "rewind". The tapes hisses backward to a stop. The old man says "the miracle isn't about how good or bad you might think this poem is, the miracle is that you understood it". He presses "play" and the machine repeats his performance as he reads us the poem in it's original Spanish.
"... y mientras caminaba a través del cielo Él fue seguido por sus gatos grandes y pequeños, en primer lugar negro y marrón, gris, entonces, luego blanco, y rojo y azul, y oh! todos los colores, y juntos subieron hasta hervir y por el aire fresco de la noche y en el agua turquesa enfriar y luego se redujo, se desvaneció, en la oscuridad."
