BEAR
A Teddy’s Tale
A tale about Peter, by his humble dreamtime companion.
By Amy Richards
Copyright 2012
Smashwords Edition
License Notes
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With a flourish, Bear threw open the curtains and blinded the leader of the ghouls, forcing him to stagger a couple steps backward. It's a well-known fact that the greenish variety of ghouls (the kind with the face that looks like it melted a bit) absolutely hates sunlight. Bear had eluded the ghouls on a chase through a corn maze that ended in Peter's bedroom, and had done so with just the right timing to get to the room when the light was at its brightest. The perfect angle of sunlight for ghoul-blinding! After fending off the ghouls from attacking Peter, who was defending his bed in a final stand, Bear had leapt over the bed to the window. The tallest of the ghouls, whom Bear assumed to be their leader, let out a squeal that was maybe intended to be fearsome but came out similar to the sound of a kitten hoping for dinner.
- Be gone with you, ghoulish ones! Bear cried out.
He took what he hoped was a menacing step toward the ghostly gang. The light was getting stronger in the room and the rising sun cast a Bear-shaped shadow that distorted against the robes of the ghouls.
- Go!
And happily, they did. The tall leader pulled back first, and the others followed, until they had all disappeared in a wisp of cloud.
The strong morning light falling onto the bed was a welcome sight. A long night's work completed, Bear fell backwards against his human and took a moment to breathe. Halloween season is always a rough one, and he had made it to another November. Of course, there would still be a few lingering ideas, vestiges of the spooky television specials and classic ghost stories, but as temperature began to drop and the world turned its eyes toward Christmas, the thoughts of the average eight-year-old tended to be a bit warmer and fuzzier.
The role of Teddy Bear is not an easy one. A young child can create all sorts of things to fear. The subconscious is a strong and mystical force that sends creatures and happenings into the dream world in whatever way it chooses. The classics of monsters in the closet, spooky beings tapping on the window, and creepies that live under the bed. (Bear was especially proud of his battles with the third one. For some reason these monsters seemed to be the most wildly-imagined, with extra tentacles and slime and such, but they still had to fit under the bed, which means regardless of their overall size, the monsters and Bear were roughly equal in height). Sometimes there were more imaginative fears, aliens beaming down or wolves that for whatever reason took over the house as a living ground. But as Peter grew older, other humans and Peter's perceptions of them became the most difficult adversaries for Bear.
Ah yes, just on schedule. Mom let the cat in the room and mentioned breakfast. Bear knew that in about ten minutes his human would be back to get dressed, have a few last-minute minor anxieties about the day (quiz in Language Arts today so maybe a bit more stress than usual) and then be off into the world. Bear made sure to get the fur around his eyes pushed up, looking hopeful and excited. The last thing Peter needed was a miserable-looking bear starting his day.
Even as he tried to look chipper and comforting, Bear was exhausted. The excitement and sugar-enhanced joy of Halloween had subsided shortly before the Bedtime shift. The unnerving sights and sounds of Halloween merriment had crept into Peter's thoughts as he changed out of his costume and into some warm pajamas. Just as the boy had started to forget his fear (and Bear was looking forward to a calmer night) Harold pulled one last Halloween scare, jumping around the hall corner with the creepy gnome mask a friend had forgotten at their house in the post-trick-or-treating candy-craze that always ensues.
Bear hated the way Harold tried to torture Peter. Typical brother behavior, he knew it. But whatever the cause of the fears, Bear took his job very seriously and always worked tirelessly to bring comfort and smiles to his favorite human. So, with a still-shaking boy snuggled tightly under the covers, Bear had sent all his best energy to the room around him and let the boy squeeze his soft fur and play with his hard little black nose.
With the sensory overload that comes around Halloween time, all sorts of nonsense were parading around in the boy's creative brain. (And what the subconscious conjures, one can not undo with a willful wish. That is to say, faced with a large river to cross, Peter can not simply imagine a nice bridge at the perfect moment. That power is only reserved for daytime play, and futile in the dream world.) The stupid gnome mask had morphed into some sort of crazy troll that hid in bushes, behind rocks, waiting, silently waiting for someone to come along. Then a jump! and a shake of that crazy oversized head with the scraggly beard. Deceiving the gnome/troll/mask was not easy, but Bear would not be defeated. With Peter safely at a distance, Bear had taunted the gnome until he became angry. With the focus shifted from scaring Peter to attacking Bear, Peter was safe. Bear led the gnome on a chase through the forest, beyond the borders of Peter's attention span. Bats, spiders, and things of that ilk were trifles that any Teddy could push away, and on Halloween they appear as even more minor characters in the world of scary dreams. Skeletons and zombie-like creatures were a bit more difficult, mainly because they hover between the world of the living and world of the dead. A bit more mysterious to fight, as the skeleton has no brain and the zombie is actually after yours. Bear was simply grateful that this year no vampires found their way into Peter's dreams. Vampires were just downright creepy, even the good-looking ones, and Bear didn't like fighting against them.
The ghouls had been the final battle of Halloween night. When Bear circled back to Peter after eluding the gnome, the tall ghoul leader was creeping up behind the boy, reaching for him. Bear leapt at the ghouls with a shout and pushed them away from Peter. They bumped against each other, a bit disoriented, and regained their composure with a sinister anger. Peter and Bear ran to the nearby cornfield, doing their best to move quickly and avoid dead ends in the maze, making it through to the bedroom and the safety of the morning light.
Bear, now safe in Peter's bed and reality, reflected on the night's happenings and decided that he was proud of his work. Peter returned to the bedroom, energetic and fully breakfasted, with the remainder of a Twix in his hand. He couldn't wait to get to school and trade trick-or-treat stories and boast about how much candy he had brought home (or how good the candy was, depending on what the other kids had received). Language Arts was far from the boy's mind so Bear had little responsibility beyond smiling and maintaining a general look of contentment. As Peter rushed out of the room, now with a Milky Way, Bear melted into the soft pillow and relaxed. The most trying season of the year, for a Teddy Bear, had ended. Bear now had the room almost entirely to himself until late-afternoon, and before drifting into sleep he wondered if maybe ghouls chose their leaders based on height alone.
Peter had always been a lover of adventure stories. Bear liked that side of Peter. Sometimes it meant awesome imagination games. During the day, Bear was often the main character in an expedition to explore an untouched part of South America or a space mission to a newly-discovered planet. Bear was passionate about these adventures, and felt especially gifted for this sort of thing based solely on the fact that Teddy Bears got their name from Teddy Roosevelt, a real-life adventurer who was always pushing the boundaries. In moments of uncertainty, Bear would think back to this brave man, yell “Bully!” and rush forward. We all need mentors.
One category of adventure that Bear and Peter enjoyed most of all was pirates. Through many a rainy afternoon, Bear had swashbuckled his way around the room, fighting all sorts of adversaries on the high seas (the blue area rug), pillaging villages on land (the bed), and hiding treasure in gloomy caves (under the desk). As amusing as the daytime adventures could be, the dream land was where Bear really shined. In the dreams, Peter was usually his own main character, that's just how the sleeping mind works. But while Peter was Captain of the Nightshine, their twelve-gun ship, Bear was always just behind, the loyal first mate or the cheery bosun, with the classic lovable-rogue Hollywood pirate personality. November, for whatever reason, brought many good pirate dreams, and they had intensified over the past weeks. A couple dreams had been short moments at sea, perhaps a brief stint of jolly singing in the mess, or a slight thunderstorm with everyone running around stowing items and trying to avoid getting tossed into the briny sea.
One Thursday night, Peter had one of those dreams that Teddy Bears 'dream' of. It was an epic dream, the kind that runs from start to finish, a complete tale.
Peter and Bear found themselves in a small brig. Difficult to say why they had been locked up, but doubtless it was some charming yet terrible action taken against another pirate ship, a deed intended to benefit some widow or orphans, but in the helping of said helpless ones, they had been taken captive by these evil pirates (who like to do mean things to widows and orphans and all who help them). So they were in a small, damp brig with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Unlike the movies, these sorts of holding cells rarely had a set of keys dangling from a hook on the wall just out of reach. No, this escape would require imagination and cunning. And since Bear and Peter were known in this ocean to be such fearsome and clever pirate kings, a guard had been stationed at all times, preventing any sort of plot discussion or elaborate actions (making tools, cutting into the wood wall beyond the bars, et cetera). Despite the confining circumstances, Bear had an idea. He shoved Peter. Luckily, Peter and Bear had a bond, a connection that allowed communication without words. Peter suppressed a grin and shoved back. Soon what looked exactly like an all-out brawl erupted in the small brig, and while the guard was entertained at first, his smile dropped a bit when he realized that he would be in enormous trouble if one of the captive pirates were to kill the other. Two prisoners were so much more fun than one. With a sigh he set down the wood he had been whittling, stood from his dank bench, and walked over to the cell.
- Alright, break it up then.
No response or acknowledgement. The two were too busy yelping and roaring and pushing back and forth, pretending to be in enormous pain when they fake-bit each other and grappled on the floor.
- Well I guess we'll need to be separating you two here, he sighed, disappointed to have to ruin the fun.
He called up to Jonathon, just above deck, to help him untangle the two fighters as he unlocked the door. In a sudden spring of motion Bear leapt forward toward the poor guard, who was so startled that he dropped the keys and slipped on the wet floor. Peter slid out past them and hid under the stairs just as Jonathon began to run down the steps, wondering what the commotion was about. Bear pushed the confused guard into the brig as Peter reached between the stair steps and grabbed one of Jonathon's ankles. A tumble forward and a gentle nudge in the right direction and Jonathon was just at the guard's side, a little lost in the five seconds that had just passed. Bear locked the two in and then joined Peter in the charge up the steps. The daring duo was surprised to find that the deck was fairly unoccupied. Staying low and alert, they crept along the rail, expecting a fierce swordsman to be lurking around every corner. Bear was grateful that for once Peter had not imagined them to be wearing any crazy feathered tri-corner hats. Fabulous as they looked, they were notorious for making it hard to sneak about in enemy territory.
- Any sight of the Nightshine? Peter whispered.
Bear shook his head and crept forward to get another look at the sea.
- AVAST!
Bear wondered why anybody ever said “Avast”, such a non-descript word. But more important than pondering word choice, he had a very angry ship's captain to deal with. They had been spotted, and with the captain's cry there were sure to be hordes of loyal crew members on the way, swords drawn. It was a sticky situation but not at all the worst Bear had been in, or even the worst Pirate-Bear had been in. Nonetheless, something would have to be done, and Bear figured staging another fight with Peter was not going to be the solution.
About this time, something in Peter's bedroom fell off the shelf, likely due to the cat. Whatever the cause, one of those reality-alters-the-dream moments occurred, and it couldn't have come at a more opportune time. Peter's subconscious manifested the noise as a cannon shot striking the main mast of the captors' ship. Up ahead on the ship's current path, the Nightshine! The hubbub of the escape and discovery of the two rogues had pulled attention away from lookouts, giving the Nightshine an advantage to approach undetected. The mast began to crack from the damage and the crew watched in horror as the mast swayed, trying to find its feet with a fine chunk of wood missing. Peter and Bear slipped away and ran toward the bow. In true Errol Flynn style, they found that perfect rope that doesn't seem to really be attached to anything at all but is just the right rope for swinging. With a smile and smirking thanks for the hospitality, they took a running start and bravely swung overboard. Swimming hard for their own vessel, they didn't even stop to look back. If they had, they would have seen that their captors were much too concerned with their own ship to chase after two difficult captives who were now backed with a fully-gunned ship.
A more comfortable workload in November meant that Bear had time to go next door to Harold's room and visit Wilson, his mentor and long-time friend. A larger animal, Wilson was a greyish dog with a red woolen scarf. He was the original animal of the household, a gift to Harold for his fourth birthday. After years of working dreams he knew all the best ways to fight off the frightening and unfamiliar darkness. A protector in times of trouble and a willing playmate in times of joy, Wilson was the very picture of what a stuffed animal should be. Bear had benefitted from Wilson's expertise for years, and the friendship had helped many lonely afternoons pass happily by.
Harold had turned twelve last winter, and it seems that twelve, among boys, is the unspoken age limit for caring about stuffed animals, no matter how close and reliable. Harold wanted to throw Wilson away, and there was about a week or so that it seemed Wilson would be gone forever. But Mom intervened, and her nostalgic mommy-remembers side saved Wilson. He now sat quietly on a shelf in Harold's room, where he watched time go by. He was never moved except for brief banishments to the closet during sleepovers, and once or twice when Harold had seen a particularly terrifying film and needed Wilson's love during the night.
Grateful as Bear was that they had not been separated, it was always a little more painful to see Wilson, sitting on his shelf, each day a bit dustier. Something in Wilson's eyes betrayed his chipper attitude, as if they looked at the calendar everyday, wondering what day would be the one for his sojourn to a thrift store, donation box, or (what an awful thought!) the dumpster itself. Nonetheless, Bear could count on Wilson for stories, wise advice, or sometimes just pleasant, idle chatter from about eleven in the morning to three in the afternoon.
Now with November comes the holiday season, and each year “Christmastime” seemed to come a bit earlier. Toy commercials dominate the television, Christmas lists are written up and mailed to Santa at his various North Pole addresses, and stuffed animals everywhere sit in worry, hoping that no new toy will become more important or more beloved by their humans. Most of the time they have nothing to worry about. Computers and “smart” toys had grown in the industry anyway. Children rarely even received stuffed animals these days. Usually one was enough, and everything else needed to make some noises or light up or change color or do all the imagining for you. But odds of change never help anybody forget the possibility of change. Maybe it was Wilson's fading confidence that sparked the conversation, or maybe he just knew things that Bear could never know.
- He's getting older, Bear. You've been around for awhile, and kids get antsy. You know it's true. He hasn't gotten a sentimental toy for a few years now. Just be ready for anything, is all I'm saying. Christmas always brings that possibility.
Bear knew that this was always the case and each year he could be replaced, but still he felt that Peter would continue to put him first, continue his combination of loyalty and neediness that kept Bear going every day. Yet Wilson persisted, saying that it was really all for Bear's benefit, that he should be prepared for what may come. Bear didn't like that kind of talk.
- Thanksgiving should be hectic as ever! Bear said, closing the melancholy discussion. It’ll be nice to have it here again, nice smells coming up the stairs, cousins filling the bedrooms…
Bear wanted to make a comment about not getting shoved in a suitcase to go away but realized that if the family travelled, Wilson would probably be left behind.
- I’m excited for the company. Roommates for the weekend, children and Teddies! A rare treat.
Wilson and Bear discussed their future animal-guests the way socialite ladies discuss the recent gossip. Surely Charlie would bring Glo, a small bunny with glow-in-the-dark carrots printed on the clothes he wore, and Laura would definitely have Chocolate in tow, a lanky moose with a red maple leaf embroidered on one leg. Timothy, the youngest cousin, provided plenty of speculation for Wilson and Bear. The last time they had seen Timothy, over a year ago, he had carried only a blanket.
- I suppose it's possible that the boy still brings the blanket everywhere, Wilson mused.
- At four though? Surely he's come across something cute and cuddly by now. Blankets are no help at all, except to hide under.
- With any luck, that cute and cuddly something will be a pretty young lady-something.
- You're impossible, Wilson, Bear said with a laugh.
- Hey, a little Lassie does a lad good.
Bear thought he caught a bit of a wink before jumping down off the bookshelf to head back to Peter's room. School was almost over for the day, a half-day in honor of the holiday weekend, and Bear hoped to get a short nap in before the chaos fell upon the household. Bear was looking forward to the energy-filled weekend and family laughter.
The front door opened and shut with a small creak, waking Bear from his nap. Bear expected to hear the boys running in from the school bus, but instead heard one of the boys' aunts greeted by Mom. Bear could hear hugs and small talk between the two sisters before the uncle and two younger voices came through the front door to join the fun. Soon after, Peter and Harold clambered through the open door and there was a great deal of hugging and hellos and how-big-you-ares. According to Mom, Charlie and Chelsea would stay with Peter and Timothy, while Laura and John (coming the next morning) would stay in Harold's room for the weekend. Three extra humans in the room! At the end of Mom's announcement several pairs of loud feet found their way upstairs and into Peter's room.
Bear put his best effort into staying perfectly still as a flurry of young voices, sleeping bags, pillows, and laughter filled the room. When too much energy filled the small bedroom, the children ran downstairs to see if they could go play outside. In the post-chaotic world of the now-still bedroom, Bear took a moment to survey the happy damage. Not a bit of floor space. He wondered how Timothy would even fit in the room when he arrived this evening! And then as the silence stretched beyond a minute or two, the bags and blankets began to rustle a bit and two familiar faces peered out.
Glo jumped out first to greet Bear, his glowing, carroty clothing a little more worn than last time but the smile just as strong. A warm and furry hug was one of Bear's favorite feelings and Glo's stuffing, squished so many times by the shy Charlie, gave an extra softness to the greeting. Finn, Chelsea's blue dolphin with a happy little face, made her way over to the two of them to say hello to Bear. It was always a bit difficult to hug Finn. Without arms or paws of any variety she was just a body with two stubby fins, but somehow she managed to wrap her head and tail in a way that still gave the hug feeling. Soon they were trading tales of their humans, the monsters they'd faced, the time that had passed.
And the time was passing. Timothy's family arrived more quietly than Charlie and Chelsea's, but the welcome was just as warm. The children were all out back by the fire pit with Dad, so Aunt Deb brought Timothy's things up to the room and sent Timothy out to join others. Bear, Glo, and Finn looked silently at the small gym bag Aunt Deb had left. Who, if anything, had replaced Timothy's blanket? Not a sound, not a movement, just a still gym bag. But then a rustle. A bit of movement, a tug at the zipper. The three animals watched with quiet impatience as the bag opened and out came...the blanket. After a quick glance between the three friends a small head popped out from under the blanket. It was a soft, slightly over-stuffed white cow, with a shy friendliness about her face.
- Well then! Bear said with a smile. I was starting to wonder if maybe the blanket had learned to walk!
Getting four children under the age of ten to fall asleep is an extensive process. First comes bedtime, then the for-real bedtime, then the parents coming in to chastise whoever is still awake (everyone), and finally the whisper stage which leads to dropping off to sleep one by one. The animals enjoyed the entertainment, and having company at bedtime does wonders for keeping the fears at bay. Wondering what's in the closet takes a lower priority when there are games to play and stories to giggle about. Peter drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.
Deep in the dream cycle, the smile faded. Bear was on patrol, presiding over the snippets of dream that don't make much sense and don't ever develop into a story. A cat climbing a tree, a man saying words like “ketchup” and “chickens” for no reason, the usual weird dream-world nonsense. What he did not expect was the unpleasant sound in the distance that made his heart drop a bit. Over the noise of the man, now on “centipedes”, and the birds in the tree escaping the cat, he heard a whoosh. It wasn’t a loud whoosh and it certainly didn't sound very menacing, but it was a familiar sound that Bear had not heard in some time.
The dragon was approaching.
Now dragons do come in many varieties, it's true, especially in the imagination of a young boy. There are happy friendly dragons and terrifying evil dragons and every combination therein, the whole gradation. Peter's dragon had never bothered to show the happy friendly side. Peter's dragon was content to torture Peter's nights. The dragon was a Teddy's hardest enemy: the recurring nightmare. Bear hadn't heard from this dragon in a couple years. In fact, he had almost thought the dragon a forgotten nightmare, left behind in the summer before second grade.
This particular dragon was a few different shades of green with large wings and a head shaped like a llama's. Now it may be difficult to think of a llama inspiring that much fear, but perhaps it's easier when the llama is green, larger than a house, and breathing fire. (Now is it a bit more intimidating?) This dragon had been showing up from time to time to be Peter's most unconquerable nightmare, usually chasing Peter until morning, breathing fire, destroying the neighborhood. Bear would run alongside Peter, sometimes stopping to put out a crucial flame or to push Peter out of the way of an incoming fire-breath, but Bear could not find ways to scare the dragon off, heal the dragon’s damage, or find a place where Peter was truly safe from the dragon's terror. It was the one dream-problem that Bear couldn't solve for Peter. The only assistance Bear could offer was to stay by his human's side and help any way he could.
And so it was again. Peter must have had Thanksgiving on the brain, because the dragon came to fight the whole family at the dinner table. Peter was running, running so hard his legs felt as hot as the fiery roof of his collapsing home. Bear was running alongside, dodging the flames and the falling ashes from the burning tree the dragon now held in his talons. But it wasn't enough. They simply couldn't outrun the beast and there was no safe haven to be found. The dragon flew closer and closer. They could feel him, the warm wind of his strong, sturdy wings as he flew just above. They were nearing a cliff, and the only possible next step was to jump. Behind them, one powerful inhale. They jumped. A torturous moment of slow-motion, and then an incredible burst of fire, surrounding them, blowing past them and into them, heating their faces, singeing their hair. Bear had never imagined being so fully engulfed in flames. They fell, flailing, trying to beat out the flames that took over every part of their beings, and the ground was getting closer—
With a shout Peter awoke in the dark bedroom. Timothy stirred, and Charlie mumbled something in response about peanuts at the circus. The room was otherwise silent, save for the soft breathing of three sleeping children and the nervous gasping of one very frightened (and very awake) boy. Peter clutched at Bear, gave him a very tight hug and snuggled up under the covers, eyes wide open and breathing only beginning to return to a normal rate. Bear always liked to be held and was glad he could provide comfort to the boy, but even more so he was grateful for the comfort the boy was providing him. It was the worst nightmare they'd weathered in years, and neither one of them knew what to make of it.
The remainder of the night was fairly restless. Bear wondered what had prompted the return of the dragon. He forced thought aside and put all his concentration into helping the hours before dawn pass as gracefully as could be managed. After such a shake-up, dreams are light, if they come at all, and so Bear oversaw the disjointed thoughts as they came and went.
Ages later, light began to fill the room. Excited about the holiday weekend, the cousins woke earlier than usual, and Bear was grateful. No more rest would come that night, and he would prefer a welcome distraction for the poor boy rather than have him sit and ponder his own fear. So the children began to stir and the world around them began to wake up. Peter woke easily with the sound of the others moving about and before long the group had decided to head down to the kitchen in hopes of some pancakes, maybe even with chocolate chips if they asked very nicely.
When the children were gone, the animals started to come to life. They all seemed to be sore from the night on floor and stood slowly, rubbing their necks and shaking out stiffness. Just as human friends who meet for coffee after a day at work, the animals gathered in the room and the conversation turned to how the shift had gone overnight. Bear listened, distracted, as the three friends relayed the dreams they had worked through. Each had some story that involved a dragon somehow. Finn's experience had been the tamest of the group's—a seemingly ordinary soccer game during which a dragon swooped down to the field and set the goal afire before flying off. Ollie and Glo recounted similar stories; both had been through very complicated and layered dreams before a strong interruption had burst in. A large, fiery dragon frightened all the dreams' characters but seemed to be searching for a certain target and moved on after scanning the scene.
Bear was intrigued. Did this mean the dragon was searching through other people's dreams to find Peter's subconscious? He had never encountered something of this caliber. Ollie seemed the most shaken of the three, probably because she was so new to the job of Teddy, but Bear could see that Glo was affected as well.
- What about you, Bear?
- Yeah, the dragon was in Peter’s dream too. It flew over the house so we…left.
Worrying the others would do no good, and the dragon wasn't likely to return again for awhile, long after the cousins would have returned home.
Shortly after breakfast, Laura and John arrived at the house with their parents. They dropped their belongings off in Harold's room before the family went to the lake for the afternoon, leaving the house empty. The Peter's-room group took a trip down the hall to Harold's. Bear was particularly excited to see Chocolate, the Canadian Moose that Laura had fallen in love with on a trip to Niagara Falls as a young girl. Bear felt it unlikely that any moose lived at Niagara Falls, based on what he had seen of the city on television, but then again you can't always trust television, so he had never mentioned it. Chocolate was a good sort of fellow, living up to his name in sweetness and the ability to spread joy, and Bear had always loved having him around. John had brought along Jolly, a round and short bear he got as a gift around the time Peter got Bear. Jolly matched Chocolate in the sweet category, but Bear found him to be a bit too jolly and found it best to spend time with him in small doses.
With the whole group together the bedroom was full of holiday spirit. Bear and Chocolate had a wonderful time telling stories, since both have a flair for exaggeration and love a captive audience. Wild gestures, funny voices, the friends' laughter only fueling the fire to make the stories continually more outrageous, blending fact with complete fiction into a happy and satisfying tale. Bear told his favorite old jokes, he and Chocolate acted out the story of the day they and their humans got lost in the woods behind Laura's house, all sorts of fun nonsense that kept everyone entertained until the humans returned. By then everyone had been so animated and excited that taking a nap was not a bad idea anyway. Bear wanted to be particularly on top of his game for the rest of the weekend, just in case a certain winged beast decided to come by again.
It seemed the dragon had his fill the first night because there was no sign of him as the next night's dreams unfolded. Bear was on constant alert, but Peter was able to sleep easily and dream normal dreams, things like floating islands with dancing flamingos and talking to yetis in a small cafe. (Bear liked when yetis were involved in dreams; he found them very pleasant to talk with and also good allies to have in case of tundra-based dreams.)
Luckily Thanksgiving kept everyone busy, and between eating as much as possible, laughing at stories told around the fireplace, and the first of the Christmas decorations appearing, Peter's household was a warm and happy one. The weekend was a success and Bear made the most of his time with his friends before they were packed up again and returned to their respective houses with warm hugs and well-wishes until the next meeting. Laura and John's family were the last to leave. The final afternoon, Chocolate and Bear sat in the hallway.
- I'm getting a little concerned with the age of our humans though, Chocolate confessed.
Bear knew that with Laura a year older than Peter, Chocolate was a touch further along on the timeline, but with a female he was safer for longer than he would be if his human were male.
- I mean it's frustrating, Chocolate continued. We finally get to the point where we feel like we can do the job really well, make the human proud, be efficient and confident in our work. And then so soon after we reach that point, our time is over.
- But we never really know when that time is coming, so we just have to keep doing our best, I guess.
Bear wasn't completely sold on his own words, so it didn't surprise him when Chocolate didn't seem greatly consoled by them.
- Still. We know it's there. And even more painful than the sadness of being left behind is the worry for the future of our little friends. Will they be okay without us?
He paused.
- I guess they will. They always are.
Here we find the bittersweet life of a Teddy. Bear imagined that it was akin to parenthood in a way. Offering help and comfort, but all the while knowing that someday you will be much less important and have to let go of the object of all your affection, hoping that you have prepared him enough for what is to come.
- All the same, Chocolate broke the silence, we do get to have a lot of awesome adventures and be an important figure for the one we love most. Plus sometimes we get really sweet costumes!
And this began a new conversation about the elegant uniforms, sporty Bond-esque suits, and high-tech spy gear they had enjoyed in the dreams, a bear and a moose going head-to-head to playfully outdo one another.
Several different and outrageous worlds made up this dream, like some bizarre video game. Bear charged forward in each, with Peter at his side. They had made their way through the meadow, defeating the leaping scorpions and the low-flying birds and making it through the large double door by the meadow's edge. The tropical jungle provided some challenges, with its howler monkeys making so much noise you could barely concentrate on running amidst the fallen trees, the underbrush, and the streams.
The current stage was made entirely of ice cream cones. While it sounds like Candyland, it was not the happy childhood place you might expect. This mysterious world seemed to extend forever, probably somewhere up in space. Apparently the goal for this level was to jump from cone to cone to reach a certain point. Small hovercrafts whizzed by every so often, which were probably harmless except for the danger they posed as very distracting objects flying at head level. The last thing you need when precariously jumping onto frozen desserts is a hovercraft throwing you off balance. (Bear decided to remember that sentence and pass it on as a lesson to some younger animal if he ever got the chance.) Knowing that one mistimed jump meant disappearing in the seemingly endless vacuum of dairy treats made leaping with confidence quite difficult. But tarrying and worrying would not achieve anything, and so Bear knew it was best to just keep pressing forward. He turned to Peter and recited one of his favorite quotations (Bear was very widely read).
- Sometimes you have to jump out the window and grow wings on the way down.
With that he rushed forward and threw himself in the direction of the next cone (strawberry with sprinkles). He landed, and it was not as messy as he had anticipated. The space ice cream cones were evidently built with the intention of providing a pathway, so while the possibilities were endless as to which way to go, the ice cream provided a firm and not-so-sticky substance to walk upon. Some of the scoops were even connected by small rope bridges, so Bear aimed mostly for those. Peter followed along, one scoop behind Bear. He was less confident than Bear in this endeavor but knew that it was important to keep charging through. Bear was just getting into a nice rhythm when he leapt onto a scoop of large mint chocolate chip. Well, to be precise, he leapt into the scoop. This one turned out to be a portal of sorts, and Bear whooshed through the cone into another world.
This new level of the game took them underwater. Bubble noises, dolphin calls, and the occasional talking fish filled the water with sound effects. The ocean floor was alive with color as beautiful marine life darted, dashed, and glided all around them. Fish of every shape imaginable, and some unimaginable, colors so vibrant even the best artist couldn't capture them. Amidst a sea of mermaids they found the King with a small triton and a host of adoring subjects.
Sometimes dreams have drawn out plots that continue to self-complicate and take an eternity to sort through. And then sometimes a dream wraps itself up before you can even understand what is going on at the moment. This portion of the dream fell into the latter category and while Bear and Peter were still getting their bearings, the King announced that he was so impressed that the pair had made it this far and braved the many worlds preceding that he would exchange their backpack (which Bear didn't even know Peter was carrying) for directions to the exit. The exchange was made, except for the math book that Peter removed from the backpack because he had an open-book quiz the next day. (Thankfully the Merma-King understood the importance of good grades.) With a warm farewell, Peter, and Bear headed into the open waters. They swam/walked merrily along (it goes without saying that they could breathe underwater just fine) until a boom sounded through the waters and the bustling waterways suddenly turned silent, nary a soul in sight. Bear wasn't very keen on the idea that all undersea life disappeared and they were still out in the open, but they pressed on, keeping their eyes open.
Another boom rang out, this one a bit louder and somehow more menacing. As they swam on, they spotted a rectangular structure, maybe a sort of door, between two large rocks with coral and other sea life growing proudly upon it. A way out! It could not come soon enough. While it looked like it hadn't been opened in years, they found the handle and pulled together as hard as they possibly could. There was no movement or even any hint that the door had not completely sealed shut over the years. The door was entirely unmarked. In frustration Bear began to bang on the door, but to no avail. Peter, still clutching the math book, looked around and wished for some sort of solution. He stared at the doorway until a thought struck him. The barnacles and anemones that were growing on the arch were not in a random pattern. They appeared to be in multiples of three. Suddenly Peter understood!
- It's a multiplication table! To open the door, you have to answer the math problems.
Bear was good with words and lessons but not great when it came to numbers and certainly couldn't do multiplication tables under such pressure. Before Bear knew what was happening, Peter had found the gaps in the multiplication table, solved these missing answers, located the corresponding sea growth groups, and pressed gently on each. Miraculously, the door opened. (Peter passed his math quiz the next day.)
After two-door lock system, a long corridor opened in front of them, dark and gloomy and with only a few torches here and there to light the way. After a quick breath to gather their thoughts, the two took off running down the corridor, which opened to a large field. There was no movement or sound, but Bear could sense something...ninjas were laying in wait.
Bear was typically a good warrior when it came to combating ninjas. Ninjas are notoriously difficult to fight. However, a large group of ninjas is practically indefatigable, especially when, in this case, they use large balloons to float in and out of the fight. Bear was analyzing the situation when a movement caught his eye. Standing next to Peter was Harold.
- A shared dream! he cried.
This hadn't happened in years. At least they had another member of their team, because while Harold was trying to act tough and appear unfazed by the ninjas surrounding them he obviously was shaken deep down (and rightfully so). Bear figured if he could jump high enough to kick the balloons, he may be able to push the ninjas around and form some sort of safe path for the boys to run through. It would be tricky, but if he timed it right it may be possible. He suddenly realized he had been speaking out loud as he thought. A voice came from behind.
- Would work better with two.
And there was Wilson, who nodded a greeting. They set out, leaping high in the air, avoiding the strong attacks from the floating ninjas to hit the balloons. Bear pushed some to the left and Wilson pushed to the right, parting the ninja waters. Taking advantage of the opening, Peter and Harold ran towards a forest. Wilson and Bear pulled away as soon as the ninjas had been pushed back far enough to provide a cushion of safety. They knew that the sunrise was soon to come and holding back the enemy only needed to continue for a short while. Nonetheless, there was much to be done, because now another band of ninjas were hot on their trail.
- What are you doing here? Bear managed to ask as they ran to catch up with the boys.
- Turns out the boys watched a movie last night.
- Let me guess, it involved ninjas?
- Sure did. So not only was it on the brain for both of them, but Harold was shaken enough to take me off the shelf for the night.
- Well, good to have you around again, buddy.
- My pleasure. We'll continue this charming dialogue when we're ninja-free.
By now the new ninjas were closing in. With a whoosh, throwing daggers were flying their way. Bear dove to tackle Peter just as a dagger neared his head. Wilson and Bear cut to the left, leading the boys into an area with some underbrush. Bear told everyone to stay low to stay hidden and semi-protected from the throwing knives.
- Keep as close to the ground as you can. Only come up if you absolutely must. And keep moving!
Bear's calm and effective leadership got everyone through the underbrush successfully, but beyond the brush area he could see a large force of warriors waiting. Zigging and zagging and taking roundabout routes, Bear and crew managed to elude their adversaries for some time. Just as Bear was beginning to run out of ideas and room to zig and zag, morning began to break. With a smile Bear rose and watched the ninjas disintegrate one by one into the foggy morning light.
- Nice work avoiding those throwing knives, said Wilson, as he and Bear sat in Harold's room the next morning.
- Well, I was grateful that Peter had come up with a nice landscape to help us out. Doesn't always work out that way.
- The backflip over that one ninja was a nice touch, too, Wilson added with a big doggy smile.
Bear and Wilson laughed and talked about the wonderful ways that they are able to shine in dreams, doing all sorts of gravity-defying things and impressing themselves with their own problem-solving skills. When Wilson became a bit quiet, Bear knew better than to ask him about it but instead waited patiently for Wilson to complete his thought and find words to express it.
- Still...
was about all he came up with. Bear was a little concerned to see Wilson this serious.
- Still. You need to be careful.
It took Bear by surprise.
- What do you mean?
- Just be careful, ok?
Bear looked long at Wilson with a question in his eyes, hoping for a bit more specificity. But he received none, and Wilson seemed to be miles away, lost far in thoughts of whatever it was that Bear was supposed to be careful of.
- Ignore me. Really, don't pay it any mind at all. I'm just an old dog who sometimes says things. They shouldn't be taken seriously.
He sat quietly and tried to look nonplussed and think of something else to talk about. But “don't worry about it” was not enough to satisfy the curious Bear. He continued to press.
- No, there's something there. What am I supposed to be careful about?
- Nothing, Bear, really, don't--
- Wilson, you didn't say that for no reason. There's something bothering you. Something I did in the dream? Something with Peter? Please, Wilson.
Wilson sighed again. He did a lot of sighing these days, Bear noticed.
- You did everything quite well, Wilson admitted. But do be careful. Christmas is coming.
- Of course Christmas is coming! But Peter is very happy with me and we're doing just fine.
- I know, but...but you have to consider that boys grow up. They change. And sometimes they want something new. Or maybe they just realize that they can do just fine without you.
Wilson's voice got softer as he went on.
- Peter is still young! He's only eight. And he needs me. How could he do without me?
It hurt Bear to even think about it, but it also hurt him to hear this from a friend who is usually so supportive and kind.
- Oh he couldn't, of course. But you make the dream-fighting seem easy. You solve all the problems for him and you do it with finesse. It's going to give him a sense of false confidence. And he's going to ditch you, only to realize he's in way over his head.
- But, I'm his Teddy! I'm supposed to give him the courage, the confidence to face his fears! He can handle a lot. Just, not on his own, not yet. I want to show him the way.
- Don't be too good at it, is all I'm saying. Save some of the fear, let him keep clinging to you.
- No! That runs against what our purpose is! It isn't about us.
Wilson just looked very tired. After what felt like a very long silence, Wilson spoke up again.
- You'll change your mind. But only after it's too late.
Christmas season is always enjoyable, even though it's a bit scary for Teddies. Bear kept his confidence and decided that thinking about Wilson's sad words wouldn't do any good. Wilson was feeling lonely and forgotten, but Peter was younger than Harold and still wanted a good friend to cling to. And Bear had meant what he said. His main purpose was to give Peter everything he could to prepare him for what might lay ahead. And that, while a noble cause, was not easy. Bear knew that Peter came first, and if what Wilson had said was true and it would actually lead to Bear being (he hated to utter the words) left behind sooner than he would be otherwise, well that was just a cost he had to accept. All the same, Peter was a good boy and would treat Bear well, he was sure of it.
Sure enough to keep saying it to himself everyday, just to remember it.
Bear loved Christmas carols and hearing the movies playing downstairs with their classic holiday themes and characters. It was fun to get in the Christmas spirit and work was fairly easy-going. He had never seen any sugarplums in dreams (it was suspected that dreams of dancing sugarplums were actually mythical and that no child ever dreamed of such a thing) but there were snowball fight dreams, Christmas tree dreams, dreams resembling a Charlie Brown Christmas special, and even dreams about opening presents.