One novice told
me his dream - said father Hyacinth - namely that he had gone to confession in
our conventual church and in the confessional there sat a Brahmin, staring ahead,
as if there was something, and picked his nose now and then. It looked like this:
-
"Father, I know that a confessional is not a psychoanalytic couch, but I
have great problems with the world" - confessed the novice (in a dream).
-
"Mmm" - muttered the Brahmin.
- "And
with the Lord, because I cannot cope with my body or soul."
-
"Mmm."
- "And
I am dragging a sack of unresolved issues from the world on my shoulders - with
parents, Johanna, my friend Alex, with whom I got cross when he was married – am
I gay?"
-
"Mmm, mmm."
- "Who
needs such a hopeless priest, with such a baggage of unresolved issues?"
- "A!
Tick! "- exclaimed suddenly the Brahmin, pointed to something indefinite
in front of him, and vanished into thin air.
- My novice
- continued father Hyacinth – was so concerned about this dream that, as he
woke up, he ran straight to confession. And then to my place, to tell me about the
dream and that he had been to confession.
- If only
it could help him - said master Adalbert. - and what was it, that indefinite
thing? What did the Brahmin point to? - he asked.
- No idea,
there is simply another confessional in front of that one. On the other side of
the aisle - concluded father Hyacinth and he went to get himself a glass
of beer, because it was hot.