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And suddenly my life turns into huge, ugly monster and chews me up to pieces. Man, I hate it when that happens.

So believe it or not, I prayed. Why? Because there's no way I could find someone wide awake and cheery enough to pray for me at 2am.

It sucks when I force myself to resort to actions that in the first place, I do not wish to get involved in. It was traumatizing. It was humiliating.

But my colleague MK said that God exists and (I think) JeremyC said that God never ask for anything in return when you pray, so I figured I had nothing to lose.

"God, since MK believes in you, I felt... well... you know..."

Suddenly an image appeared in my mind. I was standing in a field of tall grass at night, but I could see clearly thanks to the bright silvery moonlight. There was a cool breeze blowing, making the grass sway gracefully back and forth. It was all very pretty.

Then I saw a man standing at the end of the field - clothed in white robes with his hands outstretched. And for reasons unexplained, I knew that the man was Jesus. But I didn't go towards him. I just stood there watching him unafraid for the whole duration of the prayer. Then the image just disappeared as silently as it came.

"Sounds like a vision... and that's a good thing," MK said when I told her this morning.

"Why?" I asked impatiently, "What's so good about it?"

"Not everyone gets visions of Jesus, okay? You weren't sleeping, so it's a vision not a dream. Sometimes even the most devout Christians aren't blessed with visions. Visions are like messages - something God wants to show or say to you."

"Okayyyyyy... so what does my standing in the field mean?"

"Don't know," she shrugged, "Maybe God wants to show you that he is real."

"Oh."