“What are you doing there, my little man?” he asked.
“I’m dreaming,” I replied.
“Dreaming, about what?” he inquired.
“About being alive,” I answered. The man laughed.
“You can’t be dreaming about being alive,” he said; “you are alive.”
“Yes,” I said, “but why?”
“Good gracious child,” he exclaimed, reaching into his trouser pocket, “here is a penny for you, go and buy candy. No one can answer that question.”
At another time, after a dream on the snow, I ran into my mother and told her I had seen God. She was shocked, and even inclined to be angry. She threatened to whip me for telling her such a lie, but could not in reason do so, for my questions were too much for her.
“How do you know I did not see God?” I asked.
“Because no one can see Him,” she answered.