A Peculiar String of Bizarre Dreams

Chapter 32: Unhelpful Friends

The grass is a clayey green, the sky has cotton-candy clouds and everything looks like it is made out of papier-mâché.

I quickly check myself. Yes indeed, still feel and look eighteen, phew.

The ground on which I stand is yellow. My gaze follows the outline of bricks, yellow bricks. I look into the distance and realize I'm on a path, and not just any path: it's the yellow brick road!

My heart races with fandom and excitement. Have I crossed into the realm of the Wizard of Oz? I haven't read all the Oz books but I have seen the wonderful 1939 film adaptation.

This is for Yuna. I have to find the Cowardly Lion and ask him to share his new-found courage. Or shall I find the Wizard and ask him to give me a gem for courage? He has to be a Bijou Maven. Instinctively, I begin to follow the yellow brick road.

The bricks are smooth and a sunflower yellow. I pass by lush green trees on both sides of the path. Something about this realm feels like an animation. I may have even gone right into the film, for all I know. The props and special effects back in the day clearly weren't what movies have now. It explains why some things around here resemble papier-mâché, because they could in fact be made of it.

Then, far-off somewhere, I hear a resounding roar. A lion! I immediately begin running in its direction without thinking. Crossing hay fields and tossing corn crops aside, I finally find myself on yet another cliff, its steep dangerously sharp going down. Atop it stands the Cowardly Lion, right out of the movie I saw many eras ago.

"I am NOT a COWARD anymooorreeeee!" He roars.

"Hello...hi," I interrupt his celebration quietly. I stand at a distance, not sure of the not-so-cowardly lion's eating preferences.

He turns his caramel mane around and glares at me with his brown-yellow eyes.

"You're not Dorothy, I don't know you," he observes through glistening sharp teeth.

"No, I'm not. I'm Jemma. But I would like to speak to you, Sir Lion."

"Sir Lion? Hmm...can't argue I like the sound of that. Jemma! Meet me at the foot of this mountain! I'll see you there in a few seconds."

How can he get to the foot of the mountain in seconds if he is standing on top of it. More importantly, how can I get down the mountain in seconds? It will take me forever to get to its foot. The edge is narrow and the decline is alarmingly steep. I could fracture multiple parts going down.

But the Cowardly Lion's thought process is not as careful as mine; he turns to face the landscape beneath him and roars thunderously before jumping off the mountain.

"What are you doing, NO!" My warning comes out too late, the lion is already letting gravity assist his fall.

I hurry over to the edge and stop short from slipping off.

"Sir Lion! Are you okay?" I call out and wait in a deafening silence for a few moments.

Then, I hear strained whimpering, which is quickly camouflaged by defiant faux growling.

"I think I hurt myself but at least I'm not a coward anymore," he growls and then lets out another roar, declaring his bravery to the world.

"Coward, no. Stupid, yes." I murmur, reconsidering a share of his power for Yuna.

"When did you get your courage? I thought you would've gotten used to it by now," I shout down at him.

"We met the Wizard yesterday. But I'm only practicing today," he calls back with mock confidence.

"Oh? Anyhow, it was nice meeting you," I yell down and resume walking in the opposite direction. Time is precious and I must see the Wizard.

After some more crop-tossing, I return back to the yellow path. I can't exactly recall how Dorothy finds the Wizard; but I do remember the Good Witch's advice from the movie, 'follow the yellow brick road'.

Toy-like birds chirp amidst trees. A black bat flaps away in the watery blue sky.

All of a sudden, a metallic voice screeches at me, "I thought you had returned back to where you came from, Dorothy!"

It's the Tin Woodman, possibly with his new-found heart from the Wizard. He shuffles onto the road beside me.

"Dorothy is home now, I suppose. My name is Jemma," I introduce myself into his story.

He looks back at me with his tin-wooden eyes and decides, "Oh, yes! You're not Dorothy." Following this remark, he begins to wail, crying bloody murder. Not a tear traces down his face, but his wails are like nails on a chalkboard.

"What's the matter, is something wrong?" I ask him earnestly.

"No, no," he sniffles, "It's just that since I got a heart, I find myself feeling, and all this feeling makes me want to cry."

"Don't cry, please. There's no reason for you to cry," I attempt to console him.

"I thought you were Dorothy and that made me happy, but you aren't and that makes me feel sad. So very sad," he moans.

"I guess that's what happens when you get a new heart. But you'll get used to it. Your heart will stop feeling so strongly. It'll toughen you right up."

"I don't want to be a tough Tin Woodman. I like my new heart and its feelings," he sobs.

We sit down on a boulder and I pat his back for comfort. But he continues to lament, sans tears.

"Oh stop being such a baby," Sachelle cuts short the Tin Woodman's wailing.

"What did you say?" the Tin Woodman asks in astonishment.

"That was Sachelle, not me," I draw him out of my pocket and show the jewel pouch to the Tin Woodman.

"Stop being a cry baby." Sachelle drawls again in his rusty voice.

"Don't listen to him, he doesn't have a heart like yours." But the Tin Woodman relents, and wipes his dry face trying to sober up.

"Oh please don't say that, not having a heart is simply terrible," the Tin Woodman reflects, but Sachelle blatantly rasps back, "What do I need a heart for?"

Following suit, I put Sachelle back in his place.

"I'm sorry, I have to go now. I need to see the Wizard," I leave the Tin Woodman on the boulder, as he begins to wail again, "Why does everyone always leave?"

I continue walking along the road, warily ignoring the cries behind me. After a while, the trees on one side clear out to give way to an expansive field. A scarecrow perched in the middle of the land looks down upon the dry grass with a frightening expression on his face.

"Don't you dare come closer, little girl. If I can't scare you, I'll make sure to send those awful black crows after you. Stay away from me and my land," it warns.

"I'm not here to cause any trouble. You must be Scarecrow. You met the Wizard last night too, didn't you?"

The Scarecrow's stare switches from surprise to suspicion, "Did the Wizard give you a brain too?"

"No, I just met your friends, Sir Lion and Mr. Tinman. They told me," I reassure him.

"Well, don't go around conspiring with my friends. I will destroy you, little girl. Stay away from them," he bellows.

The Scarecrow with his new-found brain has now apparently become cold and calculating. I reckon he's as unhelpful as his friends.

"Don't you worry, I'm leaving. Nobody likes mean fictitious characters," I grumble to myself as I walk further along the yellow brick road.