The Answer is 404

I had a dream.

It was a dream deeply rooted in melatonin, nyquil and beer.

I had a dream today.

Like MLK, I had a dream that I will rise up and live out my true meaning.

Okay, maybe not a dream as big as Mr. King's…but man, was it weird.

In this dream, God was the Internet. That part actually made a lot of sense to me. God is everywhere, so is the Internet. Or porn is everywhere on the Internet. Something like that.

What didn't make sense was when I searched for things on the Internet, um, God. I clicked on important links like "why does relish exist when everyone hates it?" or "why won't my ears and nose go bald instead of my head?", and all I got was that warning page when a link doesn't work:

404: Sorry this page is not available.

Has God gone down? Did he run out of bandwidth? The universe seems pretty wide to me, judging from the size of an average city block in Vegas. Lots of room for really big cables I would think.

What about the wifi signal? Where was it? Maybe it was being blocked by Vladimir Putin's chest, or Kevin O'Leary's planet-sized greed for money.

Maybe God needs more servers, like Jesus and the Pope. Today we have Joel Osteen. What a freaky smile that "man of God" has. I once met a guy in Mexico who smiled at me like Mr. Osteen smiles and he wanted to play Donkey Kong with my colon.

Pretty weird, right? Dreams are suppose to be weird, I guess.

They say dreams are a window into your favourite Netflix show.

Okay, that's not true, but I have been binge dreaming of late.

Binge dreaming is like having a Netflix subscription in your head while you sleep. Very low cost. The price of a few beers, 10 mg of melatonin and a shot of nyquil, required to produce the effect.

When I fall asleep and start dreaming, little icons of my favourite genres and shows pop up. Genres like suspense, porn, more porn, additional porn, further porn, last but not least porn, soft porn, hard porn, frozen solid porn, romance porn, food and porn (porn chops and porn bellies are favourites)… You get the picture.

Back to this crazy dream. On the 404 page was a little icon saying "download here". I clicked on it and suddenly I was downloaded into this room full of kids and me sitting at an old, ratty piano.

I started playing – the piano sounded like rusty metal – and the kids started booing. I was devastated. I had lost my fan base. Running out of the room, deciding suicide was the answer, I jumped into a freezing cold ocean to drown myself.

Instead of drowning, I floated up into this pre-historic room with one window in it. I nervously glanced through the dirty, half broken window and saw an old city laying in ashes, devastated by nuclear war. I certainly wasn't going to hang around here, I thought, until something caught my eye.

Sitting on the street was a spotless grand piano, as shiny as a gem. I jumped through the window, overcome with an urge to play this precious instrument. As the gorgeous sound swelled from the piano, old and broken people gathered around and smiled. I played for days and days.

Being a napper, I needed a rest. So I left that darn piano and found a bed to sleep on. My "audience" was not happy and showed their true perfidious nature. "Keep playing" they chanted. They carried swords high in the air, like steel soldiers marching to their orders. They were to cut off my hands unless I continued to play.

Well, I skedaddled out of there, through the window and back to that old, ratty piano. My home!

One could interpret this dream from many angles. Or one could just say, Paul, stop mixing beer and nyquil.

Or, one could wonder where God was when I needed Him most. Hair continues to consume my ears, and all I get is 404.