He slowly walked into the room. He looked rugged, unshaved with short salt and pepper hair, with an army style cut. His face looked like a road map, making him look older than he actually was. He looked like a cowboy, even looked dusty. Like he just rode in on horseback, except this was the new millennium, and we no longer rode horses in the city.
“Howdy, folks call me Jim.” He said. A nickname he inherited from the heavy drinking years. Jim Beam was his favourite vice. A time Jim tries not to think about. It was a time of lots of woman, parties and lots of drinking. A time which caused much pain, not just for Jim. .
Maggie, Jim’s first wife, left him during these dark years. Betsy ended up dead after an overdose of heroin. If only he had been there for his only daughter. Billy hates his father and is in Alaska somewhere and hasn’t spoken to Jim in 25 years.
“My wife suggested, well actually forced me, to meet with you fine folk.” He said Jim wasn’t really a people’s person, the drink used to help over come that problem. Jim was known as the “Party Animal “back then. A tag that Sophie, Jims second wife, would not readily attach to Jim these days.
“She says that you will be able to help the healing. I don’t know about that, but I’m willing to give it a try “
Jim has been the Pastor at the local Methodist Church for the last 21 years. He has been having these nightmares recently, actually more like our of body experiences. Sophie thought this group would help. Why she thought so Jim couldn’t fathom. He would hopefully find out soon enough. He suddenly froze as he noticed Old Man Johnny. Old Man Johnny was not someone Jim had actually met before, yet he knew his face….The face from his nightmares.