Dreamed 1995/9/7 by Chris Wayan
I visit an old friend who lives in the suburbs. We sit around his brick fireplace and talk. He compares various Christs--by which he means, any prophet who founds a major cult or religion.
Or so I think at first. Slowly I realize he's saying most of these people really ARE Christ--they're the same obsessive soul, who keeps reincarnating, trying to save us, trying over and over and over--trying to get it right.
"Oh, you mean Stuttering Buddha!" I blurt, without knowing why.
He laughs "So you know him too! Yeah, that's the guy."
And I wake.
Well, halfway. To this world. Not all the way.
I'd be a Stuttering Buddha myself, if I woke up... all the way.
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