Last night, I met the Pope. Well actually, after a brief discussion with Ms Jess about the nature of Karma, I dreamt that I went shopping, and ended up in this big fancy Vaticany-looking room. Somehow I figured out that it was a waiting room to talk to the Pope, and having enough concerns about bursting into flames in a plain ole church, I decided to get the I'm-going-to-hell outta there. Well, seems that wasn't an option, because as soon as I went to leave, the ground started rumbling, a giant cherub statue crashed to the floor, and one of the Pope's assistants appeared to inform me that once you're in the Pope's Waiting Room, YOU DON'T LEAVE, not until you've seen the Pope, cuz apparently God don' like it when you run out on his dude.

That was all well and good, but I was really feeling like I shouldn't be there, as the other people waiting had Important questions to ask the Pope, theological queries, fate of mankind, how to achieve Peace on Earth, that sort of thing, and I just wanted to ask how my love life was going to pan out. So I tried to sneak out through an adjoining room, where I came upon an old dude wearing a white undershirt and pants. He asked why I was leaving and I told him I didn't think my concerns were important enough to bother the Pope with, but he said don't be silly, no question is unimportant, c'mon, stay, you'll like it, trust me - real friendly and easygoing, and that's when I realized HE was the Pope, sans the hat & robes. And man, that JP II sure was one cool cat. Who knew?

Just the same, I still felt uneasy about bugging him with my trivial worries, so I don't think I ever did ask him about my romantic fate....nor did I ask him if bears shit in the woods, or if he is indeed Catholic.