The Dream and the Song

I am waiting in a long queue looking around me into the clouds with a perplexed face. The person in front of me moves and I came face to face with St. Peter. I see his flowing beard and serene, solid face imprinted with ages of wisdom and the absolute power of God. He looks down a list and asks “Don?” I can’t even nod my head. I give out a weak “yes”, so small even I can’t hear it. St. Peter looks at me and announces in a self assured flat monotone voice “Dead”.

I look down for a second and slowly raise my head and say “No”. Everyone is stunned. St. Peter stands with his mouth open. The angels are aghast, the devils gape and look at each other. I look around. Everyone else there looks the same to me. I raise my left eyebrow a little and my lips twirl into a smile. The music starts “We will, we will rock you…” and I turn and start running. I jump joyfully onto the clouds and over the mountains. I can hear them coming after me. These fools can’t catch me. The wind, the sea and the fire follows me, after me, then with me. So come and sing along now:

We will we will rock you
We will we will rock you