You must believe in me!

Last night a young man who I've known now for a few weeks approached me and
said, "Can I talk to you?"

I allowed him. He was quiet and a bit nervous and as I've pointed out to you
before, people just love to tell me their private thoughts and expose their most
intimate details, so he begins with, "I feel like I can talk to you, because
you're an atheist…"

Don't know where he got this idea, I never said anything to him, but it was like
he was saying, "You look to be intelligent, so I assume you're smart enough to
not believe in God!"

He went on to confess to me that his wife is very religious and that he has
always doubted the things his church has told him. He was raised in it and
played along because it pleased his mother, then his wife, but he could no
longer act the fool and lie about his true feelings.

Over a dinner he told his wife he didn't believe in Hell or the Devil. His poor
wife began having heart palpitations. She became so upset she got on the phone
and called his father to talk some sense into him, but after talking with his
dad at length, his father opened up and said, "I understand. I've been trying to
please your mother for years. Just doing what she told me, because it was easier
to say 'I believed' than to have all these folks hammer away at me and shunning
me if I stood my ground."

He told me it was the best conversation he has ever had with his father! They
truly bonded! He had tears in his eyes as he told me this. His voice was barely
a whisper.

"Jerry, I feel I can tell you anything. Thank you."

Then I had a dream that I had figured out a system to quickly write a book. It
involved ten stacks of cards each with a different word and as I flipped over
each card an idea for a chapter would be revealed. I began writing these thin
books that I thought would be quick sells. They all seemed to deal with arcane
and forgotten occult knowledge that I was just making up. These books began
selling and people would come up to me telling me how their lives had been
changed by my books. They had no idea it was all bullshit. I was just making
them all up.

I felt guilty making all this money and grew greatly depressed over the fraud
and checked into a sleazy hotel with a flickering red neon sign outside my
window as rain pelted it, so I could kill myself.

As I opened my suitcase, I saw that it held only one item, a pistol. I sat on
the foot of the bed wondering if I should call any loved ones, or just let them
find out later.

I put the gun to the side of my head and suddenly became aware of a presence in
the room. In the corner was a tall thin beautiful woman in white who was my
angel. She said, "Jerry, do you really think you wrote those books on your own?
Do you really think you were randomly picking the right words? What a sweet
sweet baby you are, Jerry."

And with that I woke up.

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