The Dreamer ✓

Letter 10

NO. 10; A LETTER TO SOMEONE YOU WISH YOU COULD MEET

FEBRUARY 2nd, 2014

Dear God, 

I'm not religious but I thought you would be a cool guy to talk to.  Well, everyone says you are. So, in English Lit we're studying Macbeth (we were supposed to be studying Dr. Faustus but Ms. Kiplin decided that the book was too "challenging" for us as it featured complicated themes, deep philosophical analysis and heavy religious tones some students in the class would not be able to "grasp". But I think she was talking about Christine Wellington because her common knowledge is seriously lacking. I mean, the other day she asked Ms. Kiplin if Jesus was alive in the fifteenth century. I thought this was a stupid decision and I stayed behind after class to try and change her mind but she was set on Macbeth. I mean I don't have a problem with Macbeth, it's an amazing play but I prefer Dr. Faustus because this guy makes a deal with the devil for knowledge and power and Macbeth just deals with some witches. Sorry, I'm going off topic. I tend to do that) and earlier today, I walked into class and sat down in my usual place along Chandra Jayaraman.

On the board I saw Ms. Kiplin had written, If you could meet anyone in history or fiction, who would it be? It was one of those icebreaker activities she did at the beginning of each lesson that I normally found either annoying or a waste of time but today, the question caught my attention. Ms. Kiplin quietened the class and asked the question out loud. Quite a few people put their hands up.

Beatrice Hunt said she would love to meet Sigmund Freud, she wanted to talk to him about his theories like the Oedipus Complex and the Electra Complex and how he even came up with them. Oscar Alvarado said he would want to meet Atticus Finch, a character from To Kill A Mockingbird because he had a priceless wisdom about life and death he would love for him to share. Naveed Krishnamurthy said he would meet Nikolas Telsa because the man was an absolute genius and a total mad scientist. I wasn't surprised when Marlow Powers said she would love to meet John Lennon because everyone knows Marlow is obsessed with him.

Then the question came to James Will. I don't think James was even listening because he'd been engrossed in whatever he was doodling on his notebook ever since lesson started and he seemed pretty confused when Mrs. Kiplin called out his name. I watched as his green-eyed gaze flickered to the question on the board, then for a heart stopping moment to me and then over to Ms. Kiplin.

He was quiet for a second or two before he shrugged. "No one," he said, "the dead are dead and the fictional aren't real, so...I'd rather concern myself with the living. I'd like to meet Alex Turner from the Arctic Monkeys, he's like my favourite guy right now."

I think I must have been smiling or I must have laughed (I don't even know, so many of my actions are involuntarily and rather embarrassing when it comes to James Will) because James glanced at me and smiled back. Did I ever tell you James is my favourite guy ever? Ms. Kiplin frowned at James, obviously not liking his answer and then as I'd dread all lesson, she'd asked me the question. I was still fluttery from the smile he gave me, so I said the first thing that came to mind.  

"God," I said.

The silence was suddenly louder than I remembered and I could feel James' gaze on me, a heavy pressure that made my stomach swoop. I hoped I didn't sound like a religious nut.

Ms. Kiplin looked pleasantly surprised. "God? Do you believe in him?"

"No," I said, "but I would like to."

I didn't say anything else. I couldn't bring myself to elaborate why I chose to meet you of all people. People? Is that the right word? Saying people would mean you're human and I don't think that you're human. I think you're on another level. I think you're bigger than this universe, you touch this reality and an infinite amount of others. I was asking myself that question again as I took the bus home. Do I believe in you? I don't. I did once, but I stopped a little while after Mum died. I don't believe you exist anymore. I would really like to because, well, because it must be nice to believe in something.

And I think that if I believed in you, I wouldn't feel so detached. The thing about belief is that it tethers you to something. You can wander but you won't be lost. I think that's the beauty of belief. It gives you a sense of purpose, a direction that shapes everything you do and say.

These days, I'm not so sure what I believe in. I look at the world, a world you supposedly created, and all I see is chaos. And chaos doesn't reward the good and it doesn't punish the bad either. Chaos is chaos and it hides so many things. You see, when I look up at the stars, at the dots of light piercing the darkness through time and space to decorate the black sky, I don't feel awestruck or mesmerised. I feel too small to be significant, and I freeze when I try to think about the sheer and unimaginable size of the universe.

I keep thinking, if you are real, you must be terrifying.

And I keep thinking that if I ever met you, I don't know what I would say to you. Everyone seems to have their conversation with you planned out but honestly, I don't know what I would say to someone with enough power to create something as grand as the universe. But I do think I would start off with why.

Love, Morgana.