Voice

It came to him at night, in a dream. In the midnight hour when no one watches. When all eyes are shut or entranced by screens of light bordered by endless darkness. It spoke but not in words. In images and themes that meant words. She, beautiful Liza, was in the dream. And she was beautiful, but what he felt above all else was the depth of warmth and mutual attraction that they shared and enjoyed. He didn’t know it at the time, having had few before, but it was the excitement of a new relationship and the fulfillment of a long and intimately held desire. He wanted her, and he had wanted her, and in this dream he had her. That, in itself, was nothing special besides the wonderful feelings that felt true. Until he awoke, of course, and was left to miserably draw that fulfillment now retracted back in to reality, and find some way of letting out the pressure from his blue-balled heart.

But this dream was different. In this dream the voice came and it spoke to him. In a glance it said, “She wants you too.” In a smile it said, “She will be yours.” In a shared laugh it said, “This is not too good to be true,” and in a way that only dreams can manipulate scenes of passing hours and days it said, “It’s only a matter of time.”

…

It left in the morning, in wakefulness. In the busy hour when no one watches. When all are eyes are opened and entranced by screens of information bordered by subdued light. He thought and felt but not in words. In images and themes that meant words. She, beautiful Liza, was in his woken mind.

“I want her,” he said in groaning too deep for words.

“She wants you too,” said the images from the voice.

“But how can it be true?” he said in fearful scenarios.

“This is not too good to be true,” said the images.

“But when? What do I do?” he said with wild speculations.

“It’s only a matter of time,” said the images.

“I want this too much,” he spoke at last in words.

“She wants you too,” said the images.

He resolved to seek guidance from his pastor at the earliest opportunity, and then decided the earliest opportunity was immediately. Work could wait. This was life! The real sort of stuff that life was supposed to be made of. He called out sick then berated himself for not calling his pastor first. He did this not in words but in thoughts and feelings that meant words. He messaged his pastor to make sure it was a good time. The meeting confirmed, he took the portal in the lobby of his apartment building to the hub and jostled through the rush hour crowd to the church portal from there. After watching the obligatory add, he passed through the portal to the lobby of his church.

“How you doing, John?” said his pastor in the way that said he was trying hard to be personal but was clearly not his forte.

After the minimum of greetings and small talk he got right into it.

“Pastor, you spoke about hearing God’s voice, or the voice of his messengers a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, we can all hear God’s voice though it seems he usually speaks through the world or messengers of other types.”

“Right, but you also said there’s a voice sometimes. It’s the part of him that speaks and interacts with us.”

“Yeah, generally, we call that the Voice.” His pastor chuckled. “Not very creative.”

He smiled politely. “But how do we recognize the Voice? What I mean is, how do I tell it apart from my own thoughts?”

“Ahh, that’s a tough one. Well in general it will have a different quality. You know, over time we generally get to know our own ‘voices’, if you will.” His pastor chuckled. “And, generally, that comes from knowing ourselves and our motives. So if we know our motives, and we have thoughts that seems to align with those motives, it’s probably our voice. But if we hear something that seems to have motives entirely different than what we might usually be motivated towards, then we can start to question what that voice is.”

“Hmm,” he said and his brows furrowed.

“And then of course, there’s the general different quality the Voice will have,” his pastor said. “If you hear something and it stands out to you. It’s remarkable and you can’t seem to forget it or put it aside. Well, generally, there’s a good chance that is the Voice speaking to you.”

“Hmm,” he said again.

“You’ve been hearing the Voice, John?”

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “I mean, I think so. I’m trying to figure it out.”

“Well, there’s other voices too. Other motives vying for our attention. So, generally, we gotta watch out for those too.”

“Right. It’s just it’s kind of something close to the chest.”

“I see. Well, in general, that’s another we have to be careful with. Deep feelings get involved, it can get messy.”

“Right. That’s why I came to you.”

“Well, use your discernment. In general, if it is the Voice speaking to you, you don’t want to ignore it or treat it like it’s got bad motives.”

“So what do I do if my feelings are making things muddy?”

“Well, generally, I don’t think this is what to do most of the time, but in this case a test might be in order.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean testing what you’re hearing. Pray, and ask God that if he has sent his Voice to speak to you that a certain thing will happen, or not happen. Make it specific and difficult. You don’t want it to happen because it’s just a common occurrence. Generally, needs to be something that won’t happen without God’s intervention.”

“So a miracle basically.”

“Yeah you could put it that way.”

“Okay. Thanks pastor.”

“Anytime, John. You let me know how it goes.”

“I will. Thanks.”

…

“I want this too much,” he spoke in words.

“She wants you too,” said the Voice in feelings.

“I have to test this,” he said.

“This is not too good to be true,” said the Voice in images.

The World Cup was happening and Iceland had a big game against Argentina. There was almost no chance Iceland could win. In fact, it was very likely Argentina would win by a substantial and possibly embarrassing margin.

“I’ll ask God to cause Iceland to win,” he thought at first.

“That’s a bit too hard,” said another voice in experiences.

“That might be true…Okay, I’ll ask God to cause Iceland to tie with Argentina.”

“I think that’s the right amount of difficulty,” said the experiences voice.

So he prayed and believed God heard him and hoped he would answer favorably. When the big game came he couldn’t watch it because he had to work. He got distracted at work and forgot all about it until he was watching the obligatory add at the hub portal to his apartment building which happened to be promoting the World Cup. As soon as he stepped through the portal he checked the scores.

Iceland 1 - 1 Argentina.

He couldn’t believe it. This was a shocking upset. An unbelievable result. It had worked. The test worked! Even better than that it meant the Voice was speaking to him and even better than that it meant that ‘She wants you too,’ was true.

“She wants me too,” he said in feelings.

“She wants you too,” said Voice.

“She’ll be mine,” he said in a secret, tender place.

“She will be yours,” said Voice.

“I can’t believe this is true,” he said echoing experiences.

“It’s not too good to be true,” said Voice.

“What do I do now?” he said.

“It’s only a matter of time.”

…

She came to him in the morning, in a dress. In the Sunday hour when no one watches. When all eyes are opened and entranced by screens of distraction bordered in Biblical passage. She spoke but not in words. In expressions and physiognomic language. She, beautiful Liza, was in the dress. And she was beautiful, and the sight of her overcame him.

“I want you too,” said her open smile.

“I’m all yours,” said her eyes.

“I’m not too good to be true,” said her scent.

“It’s just a matter of time,” said her hips swaying by like the swish of a pendulum.

And in that sway he was mesmerized and left to find ways of releasing the pressure from his blue balls. But it felt right.

After all, “She will be yours.”

And, “It’s only a matter of time.”

…

Time passed, more time than he would’ve liked, and he wondered if perhaps it was simply up to him to get things started.

After all, “She will be yours.”

And, “She wants you too.”

Maybe it was in his hands and he had been causing her to wait in suffering all this time as well.

Surely, “This is not too good to be true,” that now could be the time. What could hold them back when Iceland tied Argentina 1-1?

He resolved to talk to her at the earliest opportunity. So the next Sunday he took the portal in the apartment lobby to the hub and jostled through the Godly crowd to the church portal. After watching the obligatory ad he stepped through the portal into the church lobby. He went into the worship service and was mesmerized by the pendulum sway of her hips. He bowed and worshiped the Almighty Fat Ass.

It was lust, but at least, “She will be yours.”

And, “She wants you too.”

After the service he asked to talk to her and she agreed.

“Liza, I like you a lot,” he said in words. “I’d like to take you out and get to know you better.”

Her expression was more measured and cool than he would’ve liked. “I’m flattered…can I think about it a little bit?”

“Sure,” he said.

Later he admitted to himself that he was surprised she needed to think about it.

After all, “She wants you too.”

But he figured women were just that way sometimes.

And, “It was only a matter of time.”

…

“No,” she said the next time they saw each other. “I’m sorry, I just don’t see you that way. But I think you’re a great guy.”

“Oh,” he said, and was mesmerized by the pendulum sway of her hips as she walked away.

“She doesn’t want me,” said his heart.

“She wants you too,” said Voice.

“But she doesn’t want to be mine,” said his mind.

“She will be yours,” said Voice.

“No. It was always too good to be true. God doesn’t give me things that good,” said his experience.

“It’s not too good to be true,” said Voice.

“It’s never going to happen,” said his heart.

“It’s only a matter of time,” said Voice.

An immense pressure built up in his head. He had prayed and believed. God had answered his request for a sign. So how could this be? Was God a liar? Was Liza more powerful than God?

…

It came to him at twilight, in a revelation. In the dim-light hour when no one watches. When all eyes are opened and entranced by screens of entertainment bordered by dull reality. It spoked but not in words. In themes and images.

“It’s only a matter of time,” said the themes.

“So it’s the timing,” he said in revelation.

God was not a liar. After all, he had jumped the gun. He had only to wait. That was not so bad. Not when, in the end, “She will be yours.”

“It’s not too good to be true,” said Voice.

“I’m sorry for not believing,” he said in words.

He resolved to ask her to dance at the wedding. Surely this wasn’t too far. Perhaps the matter of time was not yet settled, but it was only a dance. So he trimmed his beard and combed his hair and put on his stylish suit. He took the lobby portal to the hub and jostled through the weekend crowd to the venue portal. After watching the obligatory ad he went through to the lobby of the venue. He went into the wedding and was mesmerized by the pendulum sway of her dancing hips.

He stepped in among her friends and spoke to her in words. “Would you like to dance?”

She flushed but took his hand. “Okay.”

They began to dance but he did not feel the pendulum sway of her hips.

“I only said yes to not embarrass you,” she said.

“Oh…I’m sorry,” he said.

“She doesn’t want you at all said her rigid arms.

“She will never be yours,” said the ice in her avoidant gaze.

“This was always too good to be true,” said the stiff straightness in her back.

“It will always be a matter of time,” said the pendulum sway of her hips as she walked away.

…

He tried to say it in poetic expressions and romantic gestures.

“I want you and I believe you want me too,” wrote his hand on the letter.

“I’m yours, won’t you be mine?” in feverish scrawl.

“This could be the moment where too good to be true becomes real,” in hopeful pleading.

“The matter of time is in your hands,” in hasty words.

And, in desperation, “I believe Voice has spoken.”

Her reply was to the point and in hindsight contained much more than the following phrase, but for a long time all he heard was, “No, and this is the last time I will say it. I used to respect you but now I don’t. You’ve pushed and pushed despite my wishes. For the last time, please STOP.”

…

He went through his apartment portal to the hub and through the Godly crowd to the church portal. After watching without seeing the obligatory ad he went through to the church lobby. He caught her eye as she walked in.

“How could I ever want something as disgusting as you?” she said in uncontrollable facial spasms.

He didn’t even notice the pendulum sway of her hips as she walked by.

…

“What do you think happens when God says something, but circumstances prove contrary?” he said to his friends rhetorically.

“That’s a tough one,” said his older female friend. “I assume it’s a situation where it’s been tested?”

“Of course.”

“I had a situation like this once. I was convinced God told me who I was going to marry.”

“Oh,” he said in mock surprise.

“Yeah, and it just never happened and it’s obvious now that he doesn’t think of me that way and never will.”

He thought about this for a moment and it suddenly became plain to him that she was referring to him. For a moment there was a little jolt of fear that God might actually want him to marry his older female friend. It quickly passed.

After all, “He didn’t want her too.”

And, “He wouldn’t be hers.”

“It was too bad to be true.”

“It would never happen.”

He had free will of course. A little jolt of fear.

…

It came to him at night, in a dream. In the midnight hour when no one watches and all eyes are shut or entranced by screens of light bordered in endless darkness. It spoke but not in words. In themes and images that meant words. She, beautiful Liza was in the dream. And she was beautiful but what he felt above all else was the unasked for fulfillment of a long held desire only to be retracted as he came back to reality, and was left to somehow ease the pressure of his blue-balled heart.

“But you said, ‘She wants you too,” he spoke in words.

“You wanted her to want you too,” said Voice.

“What about ‘She will be yours,” he whispered.

“You wanted to hear that,” said Voice.

“But I always thought this sort of thing was too good to be true,” he whined.

“And yet you believed it wasn’t,” said Voice.

“Will it really never happen?”

“Some matters take more time than you have.”

He lay for a moment in his midnight bed. “I don’t understand what I’m supposed to have learned from this.”

“It’s only a matter of time.”

“I see.”

“John,” said Voice.

“Yes?”

“Never put words in my mouth.”

…

He resolved to be different in the future and to start immediately although he wasn’t sure how or in what way. He went down to the lobby of his apartment building and through the portal to the hub. He jostled through the rush hour crowd until he realized he didn’t know where he was going. He couldn’t go where he’d been before. He looked around for a moment, and then took the first portal that didn’t require an obligatory ad.

The End