The question of the existence of God hasn't been settled yet, as far as I know. Neither has the question of the soul--whether it's something separate from our bodies, something that may be able to survive bodily death and install itself someplace else (reincarnating into another body, rising to heaven, dropping to hell), or whether the soul, and our consciousness, are simply artifacts of our vastly complicated but purely material minds. People have been arguing circles around this for years. Penrose and Dennett are still at it, if you can believe it.
But if, as some scientists and philosophers assert, there exist an infinite number of parallel universes, and if everything conceivable must be happening in one or another of those, well then, there have got to be some universes where these questions have already been settled. There's got to be a couple where the answers are so obvious that you don't even have to wonder.
There has got to be a universe where there's only one planet, and it's Earth. The Sun circles around it on a rusty but serviceable track, and a radiant, bearded God floats across the sky on a throne of semi-sweet whipped-cream clouds and tosses gifts down to the surface when he's happy and thunderbolts when he's mad. There has got to be a universe where our souls are encapsulated in animals that follow us around throughout our lives, a la The Golden Compass. And there has got to be a universe where we tow our souls around in tin wagons, and our souls are the size of a football and the consistency of jell-o, and if you lose your wagon you die, and if you leave it out in the sun too long your soul gets bitter and leathery, but if you mist it with a water-bottle you'll fell better. If you're clever and you find someone who leads a happier life than you do, maybe you can trick them into trading, and then you'll be happier for a while too, but you'll be someone different from before, and it'll probably only last a while because inevitably someone will con you out of your satisfaction in turn, and then you'll be clever and unhappy again. And life won't be a matter of who has the most money, but a matter of who can be clever enough to protect and preserve their souls and remain happy at the same time, too.
It's as absurd as Tralfamadorians, but those have to be real someplace, too. In fact, there has to be a universe to accurately reflect every novel ever written, and one where we age backwards, and one where we all live forever and never get sick.
And a lot more, besides.