This morning, shortly before waking, I dreamt a long convoluted narrative. I only recall the end. I was standing by a window, looking out over a precipice at a vague landscape. A short and very dark Indian woman (Indian as in India, not as in Native American) approached. She was beautiful; I could have written a salacious Song of Solomon right there. She told me she was the Christ, and that she had assumed her current guise in order to seduce me to faith in her. We entered into a brief but complex series of theological exchanges. To sum up: I did not doubt that, were she actually the Christ, she would have both motive and ability to assume whatever guise she felt necessary to affect my conversion and to save a lost soul. I also agreed that assuming the guise of a beautiful Indian woman was likely to tempt me. But I doubted seriously that the Christ would assume a seductive guise and then tell me his (her?) plan. Further: Would the Christ deceive to save a soul?
The woman laughed and smiled. She was quite sexy. I knew then who she really was, and opened the window and leapt out, despite all temptation.