I often wake in the morning feeling in possession of a great discovery, a solution to a universal mystery, such as What is God? The answer is always fluttering inches away, and, try as I will, it escapes me. During the day I get hints of it and spend a few more minutes searching my memory, which, researchers tell us, is tricky at best. (Our memory rewrites our history even as we record it.) No matter what I recall, it isn’t the answer I felt I had. It’s a fragment. Recently I woke believing that the very fragmentation and elusiveness is the answer. There’s a reason for the rim sleep, where we labor and search to no avail: We can’t locate the classroom until the course is over; we drive to a destination but arrive miles away and have no car; we belong on the upper floor and we have to crawl under the foundation; we discover a beautiful room in a house we’re vacating, so we stay, and the room suddenly loses its luster. All the dream training, years of sorting through crazy time and maze worlds and glaze tone is a thwarting. Dreams are the mechanism by which we could find, and may eventually find, answers to all the great mysteries. The thwarting is interference–we’re coded not to know yet. To a Bible reader, which I have been and am, this is like finding the Tower of Babel in the dream world.