A fist hit my face.

“The truth, Peter, or it’ll only get worse.”

I glared up at my attacker, but didn’t speak. A fist flew at my face again—

—And I woke up. Sweating.

“It’ll only get worse, Peter,” I heard a female voice call.

I shook my head. “What?”

“The rain. Haven’t you been listening? Get out of bed or you’ll be late for school, not to mention turned into a popsicle from the freezing rain.”

Oh, right. “Yes, mom,” I called back. I wiped my eyes and slowly got out of bed.

~ :: ~

“What is Truth?” my professor asked the class. “The question Jesus asked Pontius Pilate. What do you think he meant by that? Anyone?”

I started to raise my hand when the bell rang.

“Hold that thought, everyone, we’ll continue tomorrow. Remember, read pages 65-96 for tomorrow.” The students began shuffling their items and leaving the classroom.

What was Truth? Not just, not-telling-a-lie-lowercase-T-truth, but…Truth. Capital-T. We’d been discussing the idea in my theological studies class.

Truly fascinating, I thought to myself. I thought of the Bible and things I had learned in Sunday school. But I couldn’t get the dream out of my mind. The attacker beating the truth out of me. Was it Truth? Or just truth?

I finished packing my bag and walked out of the classroom.


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