Last night I had a rather strange dream. The church I grew up in was having a service to honor Billy Graham. The man himself actually showed up, though he was a strange combination between the handsome young go-getter Billy Graham (though without all the fiery rhetoric and finger wagging) and the elderly, grandfatherly, love everybody Billy Graham (without all the frailty). Part of the service involved passing out chocolates in the shape of Billy Graham, in what could only be described as a communion like experience.

After receiving our chocolate Billys, we went up front to the communion rail (not that my church has ever had a communion rail) and took our chocolate Billys with a fortune cookie. Don’t ask.

Upon receiving my chocolate Billy Graham, I said out loud: “Mmm… chocolate Billy,” just as Billy Graham was walking past. He overheard me, laughed, and made some comment which I don’t remember.

I don’t know why my church was honoring Billy Graham or why he showed up or even what the chocolate communion thing was all about.

All I remember is that after the service I spent the rest of the dream scheming about the best way to get my hands on the left over chocolate Billys and sell them on eBay. I mean, c’mon, wouldn’t you pay top dollar for a little chocolate figure of your favorite evangelist?