Victorian Dreams Pt. 01

Suddenly gripped with fear, Haley reacted. Her actions were not thought out, but pure gut-level reaction to the events transpiring around her. Her instinct of survival had kicked in.

Reaching to the top of her T-shirt to get at the cross she wore around her neck. In her haste to reach the metal object, emblematic of Judeo-Christianity she wore, she tore the T-shirt down the front. Her excitement was apparent. Her breath, coming in short pants as if she had just run a 100-yard dash, and her heaving breasts rose and fell in short rapid jerks. She grasped the cross resting between them and spoke the only words that came to her mind.

"Get thee hence, Satan." Recalling the words Jesus had said when he was tested during his fast in the wilderness.

These actions were not thought out, but merely reactions on her part, yet they had their effect.

The raven-haired woman straightened up from her bent over position near Haley's face and started to slowly drift back toward the foot of the bed. The common concubine women though reacted as if they were humans shot out of a cannon. They immediately vaporized out of existence and reappeared moments later back in the corners of the room.

Their mantra of the "The Master cometh" had ended though and now they laughed and mocked what Haley had said. Their laugh though was more a nervous titter. "Get thee hence, Satan." they mocked.

The Raven-haired woman had a look on her face as if a dear friend had rebuked her. She stared at Haley from the foot of the bed. This 'standoff' of sorts continued for what seemed an eternity to Haley, but was only a rather brief experience.

Her hand began to hurt as she clutched the religious token suspended around her neck, but her grip on the emblem was certain and not about to diminish.

Finally, the raven-haired woman turned to face the common concubines and spoke to them in a strange tongue. They vanished out of existence and the raven-haired lady slowly disappeared, as well.

Chapter 29

Haley remained vigilante for another hour, expecting a return of her visitors, but exhaustion and sleep slowly started to overtake her, as the adrenalin level in her body returned to normal, and the 'adrenalin hangover' kicked in.

As she hovered in that area we all go through just before dropping off to sound sleep, she again felt the familiar cold draft on her cheek.

Her visitors of earlier in the evening though caused her to start as she awoke. She still clutched the cross in her hand and the thin metal of the religious emblem had cut into her palm she had gripped it so tightly.

Haley relaxed when she realized her visitor was benefic and not malefic. The angelic face of Clarice hovered at her bedside. She seemed to be testing the room as she surveyed and sniffed the air.

"You had visitors earlier?" she asked.

"Yes, the ones you described in your journal. But the cross and the words I used from the bible sent them away."

Haley was a bit surprised that Clarice wasn't aware of what had taken place earlier. She thought to ask why she didn't know what had happened, but figured since the angelic apparition always avoided her direct questions, it would likely do no good. Clarice spoke again.

"Your use of the divinely-inspired text and the things that represent the Holy Father served you in good stead during this trial. Learn from them and build on these lessons. Your trials have just begun though, I fear. The forces of the Master are arrayed against you and they are unrelenting."

Haley still not clear on the reference to 'the things that represent the Holy Father' felt compelled to ask again.

"What do you mean by the things that represent the Holy Father, please tell me?"

"Search your experiences thus far and the things you have read. There you will find the answers I cannot provide." As the angelic Clarice spoke, she took Haley's hand in her own and traced the wound her clutching the cross had left. As Haley looked at the actions of the spirit, her eyes were drawn to the cross around the spirits neck and how it glowed with magnificence. She felt a warmth begin to form between her breasts and looked down to see the cross resting between her breasts was also glowing. She started to speak again, and Clarice spirit gently placed her finger to Haley's lips.

"Shh. Sleep now. I will stay so the forces of the Master cannot return. If they are here I cannot come and if I am here, they cannot come. So I will stay till the sun takes away the night so you might rest and gather your strength for another night, for I cannot always guard you from the evil of the darkness."

Haley drifted off to sleep feeling safe and secure knowing her 'guardian angel' was there to keep away the evil that lurked and emanated from the chamber below.

She awoke to the sound of the alarm, and arose refreshed as if she hadn't lost several nights of recent sleep. She went about her preparation for work thankful it was Friday, and she could look forward to a couple of days of rest, even if that meant sleeping in the daytime and battling at night.

As she drove to work that morning, she sat in traffic and again felt the warm glow of the cross, suspended between her breasts. This brought to mind the glow of Clarice cross the night before, and the tender touch of her angelic hand on the wound she had imposed on herself in gripping the cross. She looked at her palm, and noted no wound existed.

'Curious', she thought.

Chapter 30

A block away from the grand office tower Haley worked in, sat a small brick building. It wasn't dilapidated, but weathered to the point it almost appeared dilapidated. It's brick façade, aged and weary appearing from years of the relentless Texas sun beating down on its simple exterior. The sign encased in the brick revetment that doubled as a retaining wall, said simply St Bartholomew's Catholic Church in faded lettering. In the sanctuary of the old church, Father Andrew Johns knelt in fervent prayer before the large suspended crucifix of the betrayed, dying Christ.

He prayed every morning, but this morning his prayer had new purpose, and renewed intensity. He had decided to pray all morning rather than start his daily routine of tiding up the sanctuary.

There wouldn't be a mass until later in the evening, and then the series of Masses that characterized the weekend would begin in an almost constant cascading set of unending ritualistic presentations.

Father Andrew was looking, uncharacteristically, forward to the visit by the Bishop in a couple of hours, for he felt a compelling need to go to confession. Father Andrew usually hated these visits from the Bishop, and especially going to confession with him, but there were no other priests currently assigned to St Bartholomew's and so his options were few.

He hadn't committed some grievous or heinous sin that needed forgiveness, just the usual day-to-day stuff the Bible points out we as fallible humans and sinners are unable to go through life without committing, yet that we are assured we can be forgiven with confession, repentance and an attitude of contrition.

Father Andrew had had a dream the night before, no it was more like a vision, and it worried him, and he needed to make certain his conscious was clear and his 'sin debt' paid, in order to fulfill the mandates of the dream or vision.

It had all started simply enough. Father Andrew had gone about his nightly routine of securing the church. This had become a necessity in recent years. It used to be a church was immune from acts of vandalism or theft, but in recent years, vandals and thieves had become so brazen, even a church wasn't hallowed enough to protect it from their nefarious deeds. So after a series of thefts, though none were serious, Father Andrew had started to lock the church at night.

When he had first been assigned to St. Bartholomew's he had left the sanctuary open at nights, and only secured the door to the rectory, where his and the one nun who were permanent residents, apartments and the church offices were housed. It was after all a sanctuary, and couldn't very well provide sanctuary if it wasn't open. Once the criminal activities started, Father Andrew had to start locking the sanctuary at night and had a doorbell installed to summon him should someone require access.

He probably would have left it open as before and absorbed any losses, but the Bishop had ordered all the local parishes to start locking their doors at night. So Father Andrew did as he was instructed, but went to the additional effort of installing the doorbell. He had asked to have another priest assigned to St. Bartholomew's and the Bishop had said he would try.

Father Andrew had figured he and another priest could take turns in rotating shifts, with each filling a 12-hour stint, one covering day, the other night. Then he could leave the sanctuary unlocked again.

Though the Bishop had promised to try, Father Andrew knew the reality was St. Bartholomew's was a small parish, and the weekly tithe barely kept the church open and solvent and couldn't support another full-time priests salary. Just as in big business it all came down to dollars and cents. The big business approach of the Catholic Church was one of the things Father Andrew loathed about the priesthood.

Unlike most priests, who simply followed the precepts, tenets, and the liturgical and Eucharistic dogma of the church, Father Andrew was a serious student of the Bible. He had read it cover to cover probably several hundred times and felt the church should adopt a more humble attitude toward dispensation of the Word of God, and not just require vows of poverty from the priests and nuns in its service.

In his study of the Bible he had clearly learned that Jesus and the apostles and other disciples had spread the Christian religion in almost abject poverty, humbly relying on the good will of those they ministered to.

Father Andrew though was college educated like most priests and understood the business behind the functioning of the church. He didn't like it down in the core of his being, but understood the church's intents were likely better served if the massive business went on in the background.

So he locked his church the night before as he did most nights, and retired to the rectory. His small apartment there was humble and sparsely furnished, in a studio apartment type arrangement. After he had prepared his evening meal, he read his Bible as usual and retired to sleep, extending his small sofa out to a sleeper configuration.

He had been asleep for a couple of hours when he was suddenly startled in to awakening. What startled him wasn't a noise or an activity in the room. An intense light had suddenly appeared.

He blinked and squinted while his eyes adjusted to the intensely bright light. Even after his eyes had constricted to the point his pupils were just pinpoints in diameter, he still had difficulty looking into the source of the light.

It was almost as if he were staring into the sun itself. There in the middle of the brightly illuminated glow in his room, stood a figure with long hair and long flowing robes. Father Andrews stared at the figure, and it began to speak.

"The Holy Father and his Son are pleased with your devotion and dedication to his children and in the way you pursue an understanding of his teachings and what is pleasing to him in worship of his divine goodness. He seeks to reward you while on earth and is sending to you a servant, who will become a great warrior in his army against the forces of evil that run rampant in the world today. This child of God will be seeking weapons in their battle with the dark forces that continually plot to undermine the goodness of Our Lord. You are instructed to help this person in whatever way they may need your help in understanding and destroying the evil they are locked in mortal combat with."

Father Andrew was aghast at the revelations unfolding before him, and at the same time honored and humbled to be the 'chosen' mentor and helper of this 'Great Warrior'. Even if the task he was being asked to fulfill was only that of helper and mentor. He felt his faith better prepared him to serve in a more active capacity. The angel must have understood his thoughts for he spoke again.

"Your faith is strong. That is why you have been chosen. The way in which you inspire others to embrace their faith is what makes you such an invaluable tool. He could send you to do battle and achieve the outcome he seeks, but in this manner, by spreading your faith to others, he not only achieves the outcome, but gains a new warrior in his army against the forces of evil."

Father Andrew again felt awe and wonderment at being chosen for such an honored task. He sought direction and clarity.

"How will I know this person?"

"Their actions and words will inform you they are the one the Lord is sending to you."

"How will I need to help them?"

"Provide them with the answers they seek and embrace any actions they take in the service of our Lord and his Son."

At that point the light faded and was gone. Father Andrew couldn't sleep the balance of the night, an excitement had been created in him unlike anything he had experienced since first entering the priesthood. He arose earlier than normal to start his day. Though he had slept only briefly the night before and had only lain in bed the balance of the night, he felt no fatigue as would be considered normal under the circumstances.

After consuming a small breakfast he had gone to the sanctuary. Unlocking its massive doors for the day, and took a stroll along the grounds of the small parish. The morning was still cool, though it promised to be another day of relentless heat. Yet, even the stifling humidity so characteristic of summer mornings in Texas, had no effect in diminishing the freshness of this morning.

Father Andrew's senses seemed more alive than normal, and the colors of the day, seemed more vivid. The song of the birds, and the sweetly haunting calls of the Mourning Doves seemed louder and more intense than normal. It was almost as if the world had been whitewashed and the ugliness of our day-to-day existence had been washed away and made pure again. As if the angelic visitor the night before had cleaned the air of its dirtiness before making his appearance or his appearance had somehow had a cleansing effect.

After his stroll he returned to the sanctuary of the church and had gone to the pulpit, lit a candle of contrition, and knelt to pray. He prayed for forgiveness of his human frailties and asked the Lord to give him divine guidance in the task that lies before him. Though he felt certain he wouldn't have been assigned the task of mentoring whoever it was that was coming to him, if his faith and understanding weren't steeped deeply enough to accomplish the task, he wanted to be humble and certain he had whatever help he might require. His attitudes truly were those of the correct posture to assume the mantle of responsibility that had been laid upon him.

After praying for several hours and receiving news from the church secretary the Bishop's office had called and his visit for the day had been cancelled, Father Andrew went to the rectory and asked Sister Sara to watch the sanctuary while he ran an errand to St. Mark's. She of course gladly agreed, though she didn't feel the sanctuary needed constant oversight as Father Andrew did. She erroneously assumed the oversight he seemed to require was to prevent the criminal activity the church had been subjected to, and not his real intent to be readily available should some wayward soul require the guidance and nurturing of the church.

Chapter 31

Father Andrew drove the parish automobile to the downtown parish that was the most prosperous in the diocese. It had 4 fulltime priests, so usually the confessional was manned. He wanted to be able to slip into the confessional, and out without attracting too much attention, if possible. About half way there he thought he should have changed to civilian clothes, but then figured what good would that have done, he knew all the priests at St. Mark's.

When he walked into the cathedral like sanctuary of St. Mark's he was pleased to note no one else was around, but that also the light on the confessional booth indicated a confession was in progress, so the booth was manned. He dipped his fingers in the Holy Water basin at the door and crossed himself, then took his place in the pew beside the confessional where you awaited your turn to confess.

Almost at the instant he sat down, the light on the confessional turned from red to green indicating the current confession had concluded and the next could begin. The confessional was like three phone booths side-by-side, the priest sitting in the middle and switching from side to side as the parishioners entered the flanking booths to give their confessions.

The little white light on the booth closest to him indicated it was empty so Father Andrew rose and entered its tiny space. Closing and latching the door, the little white light turned off telling others the booth was occupied while another small light illuminated in the priests booth indicating a parishioner was waiting their turn at confession. The little window between his booth and that of the priest opened. You could make out a person on the other side, but not see who they were. Father Andrew began the ritual of confession.

"Forgive my Father for I have sinned. Since my last confession I have coveted the material treasures of this world." Father Andrew desperately wanted a computer and often found himself drooling over one in an ad that came with the newspaper from time to time. It was his single biggest failing in his life of poverty the vows of priesthood required.

The priest on the other side of the window instructed him to say 5 'Hail Mary's' and 5 'Our Father's' as acts of contrition and his sins would be forgiven.

Father Andrew recognized the voice of the confessional priest as that of Father McGinty, a wizened old priest who had no ambitions in the church other than the spreading of the Word of God.

Father McGinty had actually been selected for promotion to Bishop, but had turned it down, saying that would put him in an administrative position and take him away from the task of saving souls for the church. He and Father Andrew were like minded in a lot of ways, though they didn't see eye-to-eye on everything. Father McGinty was firmly behind Catholic teachings and didn't share Father Andrew's view of a perhaps more enlightened non-denominational approach to Christianity. Yet, there was an understanding and a bond between the two in that they both only sought to serve God as messengers of his saving word to mankind.

Father Andrew felt he could confide in Father McGinty, and that it was a stroke of luck he had found him manning the confessional this morning. He wasn't sure Father McGinty even realized it was Father Andrew in the adjacent booth.

It also occurred to him the 'stroke of luck' he had felt when he realized Father McGinty was the confessional priest, was actually divinely guided and intended. That would also explain why the Bishops visit that morning had been uncharacteristically cancelled. He felt he could ask Father McGinty for his impression of the dream or vision he had had the night before.

"Father may I ask you for input on an occurrence?"

"Yes, My son."

"Last night I was awakened by a bright light in my bedroom that appeared to be an angel of our Lord and it instructed me to help a person that was coming to me for religious support as they went forth in mortal combat against the forces of evil. The angel said the Lord was pleased with my display of faith and the way I encouraged others to embrace their faith, and so he had chosen me to help this person. I am convinced this was an actual event and not a dream or a fabrication, but I obviously can't be certain. I was wondering how you thought I should proceed. I am honored that I have been chosen, but I feel inadequate to the task and a poor choice in the matter."