Maureen told me of a dream she had recently. I remember it poorly but fondly.
We were out and about somewhere, and were being accosted by aggressive evangelical missionary types.
I had some sort of business card or something with some sort of foreign script on it. When approached by would-be conversionists, I would show it to them smugly and ask if they could read it.
Indeed, they could read it. Their eyes would get big and they would turn and flee.
Maureen told me that dream intuition allowed her to infer that the card announced to them, in some sort of crazygodpeople language, that I was Judas.
When I was confirmed as a yout', I chose the confirmation name Jude for two reasons.
First, the patron saint of lost causes. Ironic and fitting, I thought.
Second, my disenchantment with the Church had grown from a little pit of doubt into snarky disdain. Jude was as close as I could get to Judas.
But the dream sticks with me. If I'm Judas, who's the blowhard I have to screw over and I get paid up front, right?