Eric--Part Forty-Three

Splog # 191

Forty-Three

 "Mine's bigger and redder, but you got yours right from the bird." Without a pause, she turned to Splog. "Where did this one come from?"

 "Well, it didn't come right from the bird," Splog replied gently.

 "So where did it come from Kiz insisted?"

 "All right, Kiz," Jan interrupted. "It's time for us to be leaving. If you want, we can stop in and say Hi to Cor and the others but only if we go now."

 Kiz turned back to Eric. "Will you come to visit?"

 Eric looked to Splog for assistance. He came and crouched beside Eric and Kiz. 

 "Eric will probably be busy helping me for some time. But I can almost guarantee that you two will meet again before he returns home."

 Kiz hugged Eric again and then joined her parents, who offered their farewells to Splog and Eric and then passed out of the room.

 Eric was still sitting on the floor and Splog crossed to the table and looked out the window the bird had passed through.

 "The small yellow feather," Splog murmured. "I expected you to get one but not from the bird itself..."

 The words quickly faded from Eric's hearing. The room faded as though night had descended suddenly. Eric sat in darkness and quiet. He put his head down. A feeling of drowsiness overcame him. He felt a need to rest before he could deal with the strange new world he'd been thrown into. He felt himself drifting. He could hear crickets chirping around him. The sound was familiar and reassuring. A hand was laid on his shoulder. The hand was comforting and...He looked up and his father was leaning over him. Without a glance at his surroundings or taking his eyes from his father's face, he could tell he was in his own room, in his own bed. The room was shadowy, lit only by the moon outside the windows, but it was his room in his house and it couldn't be mistaken for anywhere else because there was nowhere else exactly like it.

 "Tired out?" his father asked. "Tireder than usual? Trying to do more than can fit into one day?" His father smiled and sat down next to him.

 Eric didn't say anything but kept looking at his father.

 "What's up, son? What did you do today that's put you in a trance?"

 "Dad, I - " Eric jumped onto his knees from his sitting position and put his hands on his father's shoulders. "Dad, I guess I had a dream. I was somewhere and in a forest and people thought I was someone else and a place burned down and I got a sword and became a statue and ate in a big tree..."

 "This sounds exciting! What am I missing?"

 His mother came in with a tray and hit the light switch with her elbow as she passed by. The tray had three mugs of hot cocoa and a plate of freshly baked cookies. His father got up and cleared some of the clutter on Eric's desk so she could put the tray down. She handed Eric a cloth napkin and a mug and then offered him the plate of cookies. He took two and placed them on the napkin.

 "Thanks," he said, and then blew on the cocoa so he could sip it without burning himself.

 "So what was all that I was hearing?" his mother asked as she and his father settled into chairs with their own mugs,

 Eric was chewing so his father started.

 "It seems this young man has been to Oz by way of Neverland or Wonderland or..."

 "I didn't see you come back from the beach," his mother said.

 Eric looked at her with a frown. "I kind of got lost on the way home..."

 His parents looked at each other. "From the beach?" they said together, nearly overlapping.

 "There were stars shining so brightly that I couldn't see and I got turned around a couple of times and then I didn't know which direction I was going in..."

 His father got up and went to the window. Eric figured he was looking at the stars.

 "But you're here," his mother was saying. "When you found your way home, did you just come right in here and go to bed?"

 "I don't know," Eric said. "When I got lost, that must be when I had the dream. I didn't come home - that I remember."

 His mother got up and felt his forehead. His father had stayed at the window but turned around and was looking at them both.

 "You don't have a fever..."

 "I'm not sick, Mom. I just - had a dream." He took another sip of the cocoa. It was so luxurious after the time he'd spent hungry in his dream. "May I have another cookie, please?"

 His mother brought him one and then resumed her seat.