Heaven

When I was little, I had a dream that I was in heaven. I recall the setting so vividly that it may have been a recurring dream in my childhood. Heaven looked exactly like the small ranch down the road from my house.

This ranch was a historical site, kind of a living history demonstration, where they raised animals, harvested corn, blacksmithed, etc. I attended a small preschool at the ranch. It was great, because we were always outside, feeding ducks, learning about nature, thinking the blacksmith was cool, and probably attempting to leap into the pond.

In the dream, the pathways around the ranch were paved with gold (seriously), and God's office was in the preschool building. I describe it as an "office" because that's what I imagined it bore the most resemblance to: God and a couple of angel helpers, sitting around a conference table, hanging out, getting each other coffee, working on paperwork, until someone came in the front door to ask about duckbilled platypuses or the color of the sky. They'd invite the questioner to sit at the table and talk it over. I never made it into the office, I just knew what it was like.

So, Pete started preschool at the same place today.