Pope G

Sometimes I wonder if a particular dream is from God or just from my sleeping brain.  Prophecy or Phantasy?

Last night’s dream was no prophecy, I feel sure.

I dreamed that the current group of Roman cardinals went to count their votes for Pope.  In my dream this consisted of a big urn full of potshards with a name written on each shard by each voting cardinal.  (I’m not Catholic and don’t have much interest in papal elections so I don’t know how they really do it.  Probably not with potshards, Athenian-democracy style).

But God had written my name on each shard.  All the cardinals were comically horrified-I remember thinking their reactions were pretty funny–until one Gamaliel-type Cardinal convinced them that it was the will of God and they shouldn’t fight it, even though I was LDS (somehow they knew this).

I happened to be passing by in Rome and someone found me and told me and I was horrified too.  That part I found less funny.

But the same argument that worked on the cardinals worked on me.  God willed it.  So I accepted.  I had to become Catholic so when they brought me out on a balcony, I’m pretty sure the balcony part is real, I think I’ve seen that on TV,  I got baptized   and christened and recited some kind of creed that I had made the mental adjustments in my beliefs enough to accept.  There was one moment where someone asked how we were going to deal with me being happily married but my brain couldn’t figure out an answer apparently because that part of the dream was only a microsecond and then the dream glitched and we moved on.

Pope G tried to do a good, conscientious job.   I spent some happy time each day learning Latin.  I visited various old-school nuns.  I had monsignors and priests and such come visit me and explain various Catholic stuff to me.  I had my Catholic friends review any writings I did to see if they seemed Catholic enough. I tried to clean up the Vatican bureaucracy and finances, which mainly consisted of me emailing people to get advice for stuff and then doing it, and it all worked out well enough.   I did some of the stuff my Tradcath friends wanted me to but not all.  At one point I met with the Prophet, one religious leader to another, but everyone freaked out that I was getting secret instructions from my MORMON OVERLORDS so I stopped doing that.

Soon after I got my pope apartment I discovered that Pope Francis had two holographic but also somehow physical sex robots in his closet.  They were both absurdly tall and willowy.  They could talk and move around and stuff.  I convened all the cardinals again and made them meet the two in a Khrushchev style secret speech, then ordered all the cardinals to confess all their sins to me personally.  This also worked out well enough.

At the end of my career I issued a papal bull called the Truth of Beauty–Veritas Pulchritudinis–where I explained that the Catholics had made a mistake thinking that creeds and doctrines were what counted as truth when they were only a smaller part of it and that beauty was truth and that the distinctive truth of the Catholic tradition included in a prominent way the aesthetics of the experience.  Somehow this morphed into me creating a new American Rite option for Catholics where the churches were plain American style country churches with steeples, not much art except some folk art,  and the services involved the congregation doing shape note singing and fiddling almost the entire time with some holy roller shouting and swaying.  Because it was my ego doing the dreaming, this went over big, it was a wild success, and somehow next led to a thing where I had hundreds of thousands of Catholic youth do this thing where they stared into each other’s eyes and synchronized their breathing and therefore fell in love and got married young and had big happy families, the end.