story04

The Last Dreamer

by Tony DeSimone

The world's very last dreamer lay on his deathbed, smiling in spite of himself.

"This world will perish without me," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"What do I mean? I am the world's very last dreamer. After I'm gone, all that will be left will be logic and reason and complete reality."

"Well, what's wrong with that?" I asked again.

"What's wrong with that?" he replied, "everything is wrong with that, my boy!"

"Without me, there will be no more fantasy: no more fire-breathing dragons or magical elves, no more talking animals or living inanimate objects. Without me there will no longer even be a Santa Claus for God's sake. They will all be gone."

"But surely there must be other dreamers?" I believed this to be true, for it was too unlikely that he was the only one.

"No, my boy," he said, "I've spent most of the second half of my life searching for another dreamer, but all of my adventures have been in vain. It seems that everyone has become possessed by cold, cruel, reality."

"Oh, Father, that can't be true. It's too unlikely that you would be the last," I said.

"Oh, there you go again," he said. "All of you people think alike. There's too much chance; that doesn't make any sense; that's impossible; it's not logical. Oh, I'm sick of hearing it all."

Poor Father, I thought. I pitied the poor fool to have been mislead by his own mind. I thought it was a shame.

Suddenly, the door opened, and in stepped a little green man.

"Mandatio!" cried my father.

"Frace!" cried the little green man, who had run up and embraced my father.

"Son," said my father, "This is Mandatio. He is the leader of the green dwarves of Nandolia."

"Nonsense, Father!" I said in disblief. "He is just a figment of your imagination."

"Then why do you see him?" he asked. . . a question to which I was unable to think of an answer.

Then Mandatio spoke, "We came to say goodbye to you Frace."

"What do you mean we?" asked my father.

The Dwarf got up and walked next to the door. He pulled out a small trumpet and played a little fanfare on it.

"Presenting," he cried, "Vantornio, the knight of the seven hands!" and in walked a tall man in a suit of armor who appeared to have nine working arms, seven of which had hands.

"Lizasha," the dwarf continued, "the queen of the blue nymphs." A short woman with blue skin entered the room. Her beauty surpassed anything else that I had ever seen before.

"Gremdash, the ogre of unbelievable style!" and a large monster wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses entered.

"Zibblydo, the king of the Rutebegan islands!" and through the doorway came a giant vegetable with arms and legs.

What followed were more strange people and creatures that I'd never seen anywhere. I just could not believe my eyes. Everything that entered was a new, indescribable wonder.

There were creatures everywhere, including a dragon with two noses who had to stick his head in through the window.

My father seemed absolutely delighted that all these "people" had come to visit him. As he greeted and conversed with all of them I became increasingly impatient.

Finally I shouted out, "Father, what is going on here?! What are all of these things?!"

"What do you think they are?" he replied, "They are my acquaintances, friends from my many adventures."

"But your adventures," I said, "they aren't real."

My father looked at me sternly and said, "Simply because they are impossible? Just because they have no scientific explanation does not mean that they are not real."

He then turned to his friends, "There's something I've been meaning to tell you all about my comrades. As I have told you all during my encounters with you, I have been in search for another dreamer. Alas, I never found one, so I am afraid that this is goodbye for all of us."

The faces of all of the creatures (or whatever they had instead of faces) immediately turned from joy to sorrow.

"It seems," my father continued, "that I, Frace Flahvendot, am the very last dreamer of this world. So when I go, so will all of you my friends."

"But, Frace," said a talking book, "What of the children? Won't they still be dreamers?"

"The children are no longer given a chance," replied my father. "The adults have become obsessed with scientific explanation and have been consumed by the plague that we call reality. The children are reprimanded strongly for their use of imagination and they lose their ability for fantasy at a very early age."

"So I'm afraid," he continued, "that it is hopeless. We no longer have a place in this world."

All of the creatures were now very sad. Half of them were crying, and a few of them were weeping.

"I am also afraid," my father announced, "that it is now time for us to leave. We will no longer exist here."

Then my father started to literally rise from the bed. He was miraculously floating in mid-air.

"Farewell, my friends," he said. "One day there may be dreamers once again, and I wish you all luck in reaching that time. Goodbye," and with a bright flash of light, he was gone. He had disappeared.

Then all of the sad, dejected creatures slowly faded out of existence.

I was so overcome with what had happened that I fainted and fell to the floor.

*************

When I woke I realized that I was still in the same room that I had been in. I got up off the floor and looked in my father's bed. He was gone.

Had I just had one big hallucination? That had to be it. It seemed to be the only logical explanation.

This has been another piece of popcorn stuck between you teeth and your gums brought to you by Tony DeSimone.