Hello! This is dedicated to the upcoming short animated film, Poet Anderson: The Dream Walker. :) Not a lot about it is very well known and has been kept underwraps with streaks of information here and there from Blink-182 frontman, Tom DeLonge. The short film will base around Poet Anderson, an orphan living in a futuristic Seattle, where he learns to "control his dreams and nightmares, which in turn affect his waking world." I am for one excited for this concept!
The character sounded so interesting that I had the crave to write about him. So here is a little drabble that I've prepared.
Disclaimer: I have no intention of owning POET; it rightfully belongs to Tom DeLonge and Angels & Airwaves!
Nurturing Nostalgia
Poet stared at the object for quite some time. In his grasp was a mere teddy bear, torn and fragile. A button eye was missing and a wad of cotton fluff escaped underneath the right armpit. A broken smile crafted its muzzle, as if it were thanking him through silence. It was right then when a funny feeling entered itself into the dream walker's brain; almost like a sense of nostalgia. He smiled back at the stuffed animal before standing and scouting the dim area. Light had begun to appear within the dream; everything became peaceful for the most part—whole again. For Poet, this was a good sign. The torturous nightmares had crawled off somewhere and wouldn't be returning anytime soon.
Good riddance.
Down the corridor he walked, shoes echoing against the tile floor; in his right hand, his trusty gun and in the other, the bear. Poet looked around. He stopped short and felt a tug at his heartstrings when he passed by a handful of crayon drawings that were taped to the walls by several students. Colorful banners hung from the ceiling at each classroom, engraved in large letters that spelled out the teachers' surnames, be it homeroom or those who taught brief educational periods, say art or music class.
Feeling that the anxiety was dwindling, Poet relaxed his seriousness and tucked his weapon away, leaving the bear to be his only company for the time being. He glanced down at it once more and ran a hand over its head with his long pale fingers.
"I know how you feel," he told the inanimate bear. He cleared his throat and grimaced. "To be left behind. It's not very pretty."
He shifted his gaze when a tiny cry pierced his ears. His eyes flashed once.
Good. She's close. I can feel it.
"… But perhaps," he said, picking up the pace, "perhaps she didn't forget about you after all. You're very lucky to have her, you know." When the bear did not reply, Poet frowned. "… Wait a minute. What am I doing?" he scoffed in disgust. "I'm talking to a teddy bear, for goodness' sake."