Space-Time Continuum vs. Answered Prayer

There are some truths that are truer than others.

One is that if you lose something that you knew you had last week, order a replacement on Amazon, and you’ll find the thing you lost within 2 to 24 hours. If it’s not found in that time frame, you’ll find it within 24 hours of its delivery.

Another one is: nobody gives a shit about your dreams.

Any sentence that opens with, “I had a dream last night,” renders immediate disinterest and the potential listener turns the little sign on his or her door to, “Do Not Disturb.”

Tina and I share our dreams with each other. And I imagine she humors me as much as I humor her. I listen, but they are usually way more significant in the mind of the dreamer. Feigned interest gets you past the first couple sentences, but if the dream lags on, it becomes a chore to stay focused.

And even I, as the dreamer relaying the dream, find myself getting bored with my own retellings.

Who cares what our brains put us through at night? They aren’t based in reality. Some of them seem real, but the characters rarely even look like the real versions. The places resemble real places. And often I find myself with the same characters in the same places. One of my reoccurring dreams takes place in a tower of a skyscraper hotel with rickety elevators that go up, down, sideways and diagonally. It feels like the building is blowing in the wind and it will topple at any second.

See, who fucking cares?

Just the other night, I dreamed that I met a family on the street and it so happened to be my ex-girlfriend’s mom, dad, sister, brother, my ex, and family. Everyone seemed happy to run into me except my Ex. The woman refused eye contact with me. She resembled my ex-girlfriend a little bit, and wouldn’t say hi to me even when I begged her. I asked why oh why oh why. Finally, not looking at me, she answered that it was because I was cursed by Jezebel and that because I was Mexican, she couldn’t speak to me for fear of her faith in God.

“But I’m Puerto Rican!” I yelled. “And French!”

Then I woke up.

See, you’re probably already asleep.

But this dream I had two nights ago riled me up with some next level thoughts.

I dreamed that, in an argument with my dad (which is also a reoccurring dream), that I came up with the idea that prayer, should it be real, disrupts the space-time continuum and therefore is an impossibility. Prayer, as it’s used today, to appease and possibly change preconceived plans by the almighty, is useless.

I’m working off the space-time continuum idea presented in the Back to the Future movies. To put it succinctly, any disruption to the way things were pre-determined would create a chaos to not only the lives of those who received God’s favor, but also untold numbers of people whose time-space continuum changed forever.

For example, diabetes wasn’t invented when insulin was discovered. All pancreases didn’t work out of the gate. People died of diabetes for all time. If God heard the prayers of cavemen agonizing over the suffering of their diabetic children, how fucked up would it be if he said, “Yeah, screw my plans,” and into the cave waltzes a woman wearing a lab coat, a stethoscope round her neck, wielding a needle in the air with a drip glimmering in the sunlight beaming in the cave behind her. She rubs the cave-child’s arm, plunges the needle and the poor child lives.

The doctor gives the cave family a life-time supply of needles and vials of insulin, prescribes how to administer it and when. Then recommends a low-carb diet and exits the cave. Meanwhile, The Urg family next door looks on in dismay, and 1) wants a piece of that insulin and 2) murders the cave-family to save the life of their diabetic son.

See: chaos.

Let’s continue with another simpler example. Modern time. You pray to bless the food before you and your loved ones. But God, when he was setting the course of your life in motion way back infinity years ago, he had determined that this one meal would render a stomach bug for everyone at the table. But God heard the prayer and he decided, “Meh, be gone stomach bug, I like these folks. Thanks for your prayers!”

Instead of getting sick, these people enjoy a good meal, thereby avoiding a potential hospital visit by Aunt May, which would have kept Nurse Betty occupied with a new client. The hospital wouldn’t have seen the revenue from Aunt May. The insurance would suffer a loss. The janitors cleaning up after Aunt May missing the toilet. The local Walmart wouldn’t sell loads of Gatorade or Pedialyte for the rest of the family throwing up and shitting everywhere at home. The toilet paper they wouldn’t use would disrupt someone’s bottom line. Now instead of not being able to go out the next day, the family would be healthy to go out to dinners at places that weren’t expecting them, to see people that they weren’t previously going to see, to go to work or school when they should have been absent.

Prayer disrupted the space-time continuum, and now the ripple effect is that God would have to re-arrange his plans for seemingly endless array of changes in the fabric of his creation. One simple food blessing may affect the lives of people for a decade or more.

Another example, if your family prays for the safety of loved ones traveling, it seems innocuous. You are wishing them a safe trip. But what if the flight that your traveling friends was destined to be hijacked my 9/11 terrorists? God says, “Meh, let’s change the plans I had setup back when everything was black and I was just cruising nothingness dreaming up Bob & Jane’s plans to be on the flight that crashed into tower 2 Hell, let’s change all the terrorists plans for that day.”

It looks good on paper, right?

But then God, last minute, has to alter not only the lives of Bob & Jane, but everyone on the flights. Everyone one of their families’ lives are NOT going to be changed that day. They won’t experience loss. They won’t grieve with the nation. They will forever NOT be affected by God hearing that one prayer that simply said, “Please keep Bob & Jane safe today on their flight.”

No firefighters. No police. No traumatic PTSD for 100s of 1000s of New Yorkers, Americans or those looking on from the International communities. The poor terrorists who got arrested rather than ramrodding the towers with a 350 ton monster full of air fuel . There would be no subsequent wars with Iraq or the 20 years long war with Afghanistan, and people who weren’t even born at the time of 9/11 wouldn’t find themselves firing mortars at walls of mountains chockfull of Taliban.

The art that stemmed from that day would never be seen. Those buildings would still stand.

The racism toward muslims wouldn’t bubble up. It would stay trapped inside the minds of most racists. The stage wouldn’t be set for Mr. Trump. And God would have to devise another way to get his guy in the Oval Office.

Maybe that’s what keeps the good Lord busy these days. Revising all the plans disrupted by answered prayers. Just when you thought he was keeping his arms folded and nose up at starving children in Africa and all over the world, even down your street, he was busily re-working the chaos caused when he answered the Thompsons’ prayers to heal their middle son of Covid.

When given just an iota of thought, isn’t it nuts that a simple answered prayer could alter the course of history forever? And thereby render the thought of accepting prayer as a truth completely false?

If God suddenly answered the prayer of eliminating gays, look at how awful the world would be.

If God suddenly smited all liberals, shit, the republicans will finally live in harmony.

One big point I want to sell you is this: the simple answer to your prayer, be it a blessed meal, safe travels, a miraculous healing could have far-reaching devastating consequences. If God’s will is perfect, why ask him to change his will?

Shit, look at this post! What a disaster. Who cares about prayers and dreams?

I’ve lost my brain. Where am I? Who am I? How did I get here?

Oh well, I’ll just order another brain on Amazon. It’ll be here by the end of the day.

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