The Dream Catcher

I wondered why in the world I had ever become an author. I was penniless, living in a hovel, out of brilliant ideas and a bank loan to return, the size of a small country's annual budget. I had resorted to drinking at seven in the morning because of my terrible melancholia. Hopefully, drinking would make me spout words like Hemingway onto an empty page that seemed to laugh at me. Unfortunately, all it did was add more numbers to my shopping bill.

So, it was a pleasant surprise when I say someone at the verandah waiting for me.

He was quite possibly the oddest creature I had ever seen. He sat on the railings of my balcony, swinging his legs like a flailing fish on land and humming a ditty so scurvy and horribly off the beat, that he scared off all the poor pigeons.

He had in his hand, a long fishing net and waved it around like a lunatic. He had to mentally retarded, I figured or why else would he sit on the balcony and accept a personal invitation from certain death.

"You got a death wish, kid?"

He looked up like a startled baby bird, blinking like a baby bird. His eyes we're enormous on his tiny, pinched, pale face.

"OH, good, you are here. I was just looking for you!"

I looked at the tiny boy suspiciously as he hopped off the balcony railing and bounced towards me like a mad penguin.

"Where are your parents, kid?", I tried again but he didn't ignored me, in the infuriating way that kids have.

When I stood unmoving, he peered up at me with those huge, brown eyes and said,

"Well, I haven't got all day. I have work to do. Follow me. Come on."

I was so speechless by his attitude that my feet started walking on their own accord. He was a mouthy kid, I was sure, giving his parents no end of trouble. I will just humor him, I thought.

He walked just ahead of me and I noticed that he wore odd purple pants and an old purple shirt with odd yellow stars. He also had an odd conical hat of the same design on his tiny head. He was the oddest kid I had ever seen.

"well-", I cleared my throat and asked, "what work do you do?"

"I am a dreamcatcher.", he said as he walked out of my house and onto the street.

I laughed out in surprise.

"Kid, there ain't no job like that.", I said still wheezing with laughter. He looked up at me wounded, his cheeks red. Then in a very serious tone he said indignantly,

"Of course there is! You don't know of it, because it's very, very hard to become a dreamcatcher. It's an exacting job. Not everyone has the talent for it."

I could see that I had hurt him a great deal by contradicting him. Oh god! I thought I was not good at dealing with kids.

So I tried to placate him.

"Ya, sure kid."

I was not at all being serious but he could not tell for he just turned around, happy to have been believed. If only it was that easy for adults to forget a hurt.

"So, are you from around here?", I asked trying to get some normal answers from him.

"No", he replied, "I am from far away. I live in the stars."

This was the most imaginative kid I had ever seen. We kept walking along the busy street, through the office district. The din and bustle of a Monday, busy people going on with their busy lives. I am sure we must have looked like an odd pair, a five-foot-five with a tiny-foot-tiny.