Date: Fri, 05 Feb 1999 17:52:25 -0800
From: Darkwolf80@juno.com
Subject: "The Dream"

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The Dream (Copyright 1999 by Darkwolf Publications)

    As I tromped across the baseball field I watched the many boys
catching, throwing, running - generally doing their best to get noticed
by one of the coaches.  This, after all, was tryouts, and while every
boy usually got on the team anyway, getting picked ahead of the others
was, of course, a matter of pride.  What I was doing there I'll never
know.  The last thing that I remembered was jumping out of the car of
the expedition party and valiantly running back to retrieve my sword.  I
don't pretend to remember what the expedition was looking for, but I
have the feeling it was something dangerous or I would not have sprinted
back the mile to my house just to get my sword.  Of course for some
reason I was no longer heading to my house, I was just here at this
vaguely familiar baseball field.

    I continued to walk across the field, trying very hard not to stare
at all of the cute baseball players as I did so.  Eventually I was at
the other side of the field and I approached a bench.  Being your
standard baseball bench, there was maybe 10 or 12 boys either sitting on
it or standing near it, busily chatting away and putting their gear on
to get ready to play.  As I glanced over at the bench I saw my sword
sitting there sheathed, leaning up against the wall and on top of the
bench.  I went over to it and was going to retrieve it but apparently I
had to do something first, like tie my shoe or put on cleats or
something.  The point being that I didn't have time to retrieve it
before one boy, perhaps 8 or 9 years old, came over to examine the
strange object.  "Wow," he exclaimed, "what's this."  Without waiting
for an answer he pulled the sword free from its sheath.  "Be careful," I
cautioned, "you could hurt yourself, it is very sharp."  He didn't
appear to heed my warning, and proceeded to look at the sword on every
side, rubbing the blade in the dirt as he did so.  As I was very proud
of my blade I was horrified when he did this, and tried to contain my
anger and tell my self that he is just a young boy and he didn't know
any better.  "Ok," I told him, "that's enough, I don't want you to hurt
yourself."  And I didn't.  Although one of my motives was to save the
sword from anymore misuse, I was genuinely concerned for the boy's
welfare, even though I didn't know a thing about him.  He seemed fine
with me taking the sword from his hands and went back to preparing
himself for tryouts.

    Funny, but I never remember it taking so long to get ready to play
baseball.  I mean, after all, what all to you have to put on - cleats
and maybe a jock strap (although I always hated wearing those and most
of the time didn't).  Anyway, at that time I had apparently finished
whatever task I had been doing, and I was about to grab my sword when I
heard someone quietly trying to stifle his crying.  I looked over to my
right and saw the most adorable boy in the world.  His baseball cap was
on slightly crooked at his clothes were dirty from just playing what
looked like pretty rough game of baseball.  I looked over to see some of
the other boys telling him to stop being a wuss and to grow up.  I
started to go over and ask if he was ok but one of the boys said to me,
"it's alright, that's just David, he's such a mama's boy, this is the
second time he's cried today!"  I stared at the boy who said that and
wondered how he had been taught to think in such a way.  But I already
knew the answer to that question.  Society had done this to him.  He had
been taught that as a boy, showing your feelings to those around you was
wrong, and that boys who do were to be condemned.  Had he been born a
girl he would have not thought in such a way, for girls are allowed to
show their feelings, to talk about not only what their problems are but
how those problems make them feel.

    I turned my gaze away from the boy I had talked to, and he went back
to whatever he was doing.  I turned back towards David and headed over
to him.  He was sitting there on the ground, looking very miserable
indeed.  As I came over to him he looked up at me, tears still in his
eyes.  "Hello David, " I said softly, "are you ok?"  He looked at me a
second longer before quickly standing up and wrapping his arms around my
waist.  He didn't say anything, but just stood their hugging me, softly
crying onto the front of my shirt.  I heard a few comments from the
other boys, something along the lines of "geez, what a wuss - yeah, does
he have to cry all the time?"  "Don't listen to them," I said to David,
"there's nothing wrong with crying, and you shouldn't feel ashamed to do
so."  With that I reached down and undid his arms from around my waist.
He looked at me for a second and I thought he was going to burst into
tears yet again.  But before he had the chance to do so I reached down
and lifted him up to me.  He wrapped his arms around my neck and then
put his feet around back of me so it wouldn't be as hard for me to hold
him up.  He was after all, eight years old, and holding him did require
a little bit of effort on my part.  As soon as I had lifted him up he
looked right into my eyes and without saying anything started kissing
me.  They were kisses that only an eight year old could make, not
practiced or lustful, just sloppy kisses that were filled with more love
than you could possibly imagine.  I didn't kiss him back, and I didn't
stop him from continue to plant his kisses on face either, instead I
just looked at his angelic face and wondered to myself why this kid had
it so hard in life.  He appeared to me to be one of the lucky few boys
who had not been sucked into society's grasp and was still able to
express his feelings to other people.  After a time he stopped with the
kisses and just leaned his head on my shoulder and stayed quiet, but was
still holding onto me tight.

    After a few minutes, I reached over and lifted his face up so that I
could see it.  "Why were you crying?" I asked gently.  "Because I missed
a pop fly, "he said, his voice the most musical sound I have ever heard,
"then all the guys started laughing at me and telling me that I was
never gonna get on the team.  I didn't want to believe them, but I was
worried about it so much I missed the next pop fly too.  I just gotta
get on the team, cause I love baseball!  It's my most favorite game in
the world!"  For a minute I thought he was going to start crying again,
but instead he smiled at me and said "thank you for being so nice to me,
it's nice to have someone care about you for a change."  My heart almost
broke at hearing these words and I said quickly stuttered out "I'm sure
you're parents care about you David.  Even if they don't always show it,
I'm sure they love you."  David's smile faded and he said sadly, "I know
they loved me, and I know I loved them too, but I haven't seen them in
five years, I can't even remember what my mom's face looks like . . ."
"Oh, I'm so sorry David, I didn't know," I stuttered and trailed off . .
"It's ok," he said quietly, "at least you care . . .no one else seems
to."  Now it was me who was on the verge of crying.  Was this boy all
alone the world?  I thought.  "Who do you live with then?"  I asked, but
all I heard was a muffled response.  He had buried his face in my
shoulder again and was holding me like I was going to try and get away.
He lifted his head very briefly and said "I don't want to talk about
her, can you just hold me for a little while?"  "Of course!" I said, all
the while thinking that there was nothing else I would rather do.

    We just stood there awhile, me just holding this beautiful boy in my
arms.  Pretty soon the things around us started to come back into
focus.  "David," I said softly, "it's almost your turn again."  David
cringed slightly at the thought that he might fail again.  "It's alright
buddy," I said, "I know you'll do great!  Just go out there and do your
best!"  He looked up at me slowly but still looked doubtful.  "Don't
worry," I reassured him, "whether or not you make the team, I'll still
be proud of you, because at least you had the courage to try."  I paused
a second and then said, "But hey, I don't think you have anything to
worry about - go hit a homerun for me, huh?  David suddenly smiled at me
and said "ok, I'll do my best!"  I put him down, ever so grudgingly of
course, and he grabbed his bat and helmet and began to scamper off.  He
only got halfway to the plate before he stopped suddenly, turned around,
and started running back towards me.  I feared that he had lost his
confidence again, but when he got back to me he paused for a breath and
then spoke.  "What's your name?" he asked.  I was kinda surprised, but
then recovered and replied, "Chris."  David just looked at me and
smiled, then he rushed off again to earn his place on the team.


Hope ya liked it!  Please email any comments or suggestions to
darkwolf80@juno.com. 

Copyright 1999 Darkwolf Publications