I’m staring at the ceiling. I’m not afraid, not anymore. He’s gentle, he talks with a soft and tender voice. He tells me to relax.
I’m trying, but I can’t.
I’m staring straight at Jesus Christ and he’s staring back at me.
I’m in the chair, my dentist is fixing my teeth and he has a a huge painting of Jesus attached to the ceiling, just above the chair.
That’s what I’m thinking. Why does a dentist add a painting of Jesus to his ceiling?
I’m not adding a thought when it comes to my teeth, and what he’s currently doing inside my mouth. I used to care, a lot. The painting made me forget why I’m really here.
It doesn’t help me become a religious man, if that’s his goal.
The painting is not relevant to why I’m there, and why I’m in this specific chair.
If I was currently staring at a painting of a toothpaste, then I’d probably end up buying the toothpaste.
But then again, I wouldn’t have stopped thinking about where I was and what was happening inside my mouth. I wouldn’t have been as surprised, although a painting of a toothpaste attached to the ceiling might be a little odd as well.