Mr Brown… sitting at the isolated tavern; the regular, daily routine — well, it’s safe to say that this is what it has been these past few days — odd days.
He ordered the same old usual, just as always… I guess. Quickly gunning down a couple of shots, he gazed at the third in his hand — guilty feelings aside, it’s time for the pain to take its medicine. The tips of his fingers gently wrapped around the rim of the glass, and a thought crossed his mind and hypnotised him. His consciousness was involuntarily swept into another world: the world where all his thoughts reside.
‘Mr Brown,’ a voice echoed in the dark abyss. ‘Mr Brown,’ the voice grew louder. ‘Mr Brown!’ The voice shouted, and his consciousness was snapped back into this reality before him was the shelf decorated with an abundance of alcohol, a ‘spotless’ clean counter, and a bartender who was marching from one end of the counter to the other. And beside Mr Brown… a girl, mid-twenties perhaps, estimating through the tipsiness that showered him with a light-headed sensation that oozed an abundance of joy.
“Mr Brown, you don’t have to punish yourself,” she announced. Concern dominated her facial expressions.
“I could have stopped it from happening, but I didn’t… I… did… not… What kind of a man am I? What kind of a priest am I?” His voice was a little shaky, quivering, perhaps. Or was it the booze playing with his vocal cords? Oh, by the way, he took the third shot and ordered another round of three.
“Your problem is not your Priesthood,” the girl said, staring intensely into his eyes.
The now tipsy priest glanced down at the table; he shifted his gaze up, and once again, his eyes met hers.
“What do you mean to say exactly?” he asked.
“That’s exactly what your problem is,” the girl replied.
“Huh?”
“Priesthood? Really?! You are in the wrong world,” the girl said.
“The wrong world?” The priest asked, eyelids slightly lower than usual, combined with the confusion, painted a priceless expression on his face.
“Who the hell said you must become a priest? The dream I had about you last night, you… you…” she paused for a moment, slightly hesitant to divulge what she had seen.
“Say it! Don’t think! Just say it,” he commanded.
“An energy healer,” she asserted. “You must train in Reiki; find a professional who will groom and teach you. And learn about the art of controlling energy with your mind. You must heal people with energy. So put down the Bible, take off the gown and do what you are supposed to be doing.”
Mr Brown didn’t take a break this time; he took all the shots and gunned them down, one after another. Maybe the blow in her words was too strong?
‘She’s telling the truth,’ he said to himself.