What's it all mean?

Two profoundly unusual things happened to me yesterday. I was very nearly killed by a car that ran a red light. I was crossing the intersection with a group of people. The “man walking” sign was still lit, but this car came sailing towards us. I didn’t see it, because I was fishing around in my purse for lipstick. The two people walking behind me gave me the shove of my life. Literally.

And last night, I dreamed that the Pope visited me. He told me “You are here for a reason.” He asked for a pen and paper, and wrote something down. “What does it say,” I asked Mr. Crabby. “I don’t know, but I’ll bet it’s worth a lot of money.”

I don’t really believe that any of us are “here for a reason.” I think it’s much more random than that. We’re here, period. We try to make things meaningful, we do our part, and some don’t. It is what it is. If I had been reduced to road pizza yesterday, then what’s the point of having been here at all? But some part of my subconscious has told me otherwise. His Holiness told me there is meaning to my existence. Ok, it was a dream, but his message got through, and now I feel pressure to define what that meaning is.

Do I have to invent something, or save some lives, or run for office? Like I have time for that. Isn’t it enough to be a nice person, to be well-though of, and to let those I care about know that they are loved?

I would hope so.