Dreamer

It was the first full moon of winter, and a certain three-apples- high red-clad father figure was rushing to the Fairy Circle with two special bundles in his arms. He only had a few more minutes to get to where he needed to go. He couldn't wait! Tonight was the night two of his sons would speak their first words!

Papa Smurf reached his destination without trouble. He shifted his weight so that he could place the heavier built of the two atop of the mushroom in the center. Slowly, other smurfs, young, old, and of all different colored clothing gathered to hear the bigger tyke smurf his first words. The young child looked around a bit confused, but began to feel the magical glow of the full moon illuminate his blue skin. The smallish smurfling waved his arms a little, like a baby bird flapping its wings. "Eh- E—EXERCISE!" he blurted out.

The smurfs that had joined the proud father chirred and cooed among themselves. "Ah, somehow I'm not surprised! You're always lifting things, and—"the proud Papa was interrupted by the curious youngster grabbing for his burnt umber colored beard and trying to grab it for himself. "—Ouch! And you certainly have a strong grip!"

Papa Smurf lifted the youngster off the mushroom pedestal and held him up "I think a suiting name would be… Hefty! Hefty Smurf!" He declared.

The other smurfs seemed to purr among themselves, and applauded. Papa turned his head to search for his mate in the crowd. "Ameliasette, could you please take this one? I- ouch! - Don't think I can take the other one, AND this little squeezer!"

A willowy smurfette slinked through the crowd and joined her mate. She chuckled slightly at her lover's expense. "hehe. Oh, Hefty, you shouldn't smurf your father's beard like that. There won't be anything left to smurf!" she cooed to the giggling baby. "And that WOULD be tragic" she added with a slight eye roll. Other smurfs chortled in agreement.

Ignoring her last comment, the proud papa unwraps the smaller, slimmer smurf from his blankets. This one was special. He and Hefty were brought by the stork as a pair. He was really quite quiet for being so small. He was often sick, but thankfully never anything serious. Although he was always a pale little smurfling. Nothing that his parents did could help that. Papa smurf set him gently on the mushroom pedestal and anxiously awaited his son's first word.

The slim child sat on the pedestal, wide eyed and smiling his special little half- smile he has. The moon's beams showered the youngster's significantly lighter blue skin in light, but the smurfling didn't even part his lips.

Papa and Ameliasette's hearts sank. If their baby smurfling couldn't say his first word now, how were they going to know what his future would be like? Worse, it could mean that the youngster may never be able to speak! Ameliasette looked at her mate, a concerned, bordering scared look on her face. Then the child on the pedestal began to mutter. Everysmurf silenced themselves and leaned in closer to hear his voice. "Deh—Deh—Deh—DREAMER."

The proud parents breathed a sigh of relief. However, the elder smurfs were not quite as relieved. "No smurf has ever had 'dreamer' for a first word, Alchemist." One of his peers said to the Papa Smurf. "Never in my time, nor my father's"

"At least he CAN speak. I KNEW this one was special. I don't care that his first word was unusual… What—whatever he learns to say later in life will be entirely up to him to choose." Papa replied, lifting his son from the mushroom pedestal, and holding him over his head. "It's so smurfy to hear your voice, Dreamy Smurf."

I awake to the sound of birds and chirring of cicadas outside of my window. Another mostly sleepless night led me to fantastic dreams again—dreams of shoes with wheels, and thingamabobs that you can use to talk to other smurfs- even when you're far, far away! I have to write these all down before I forget! I think to myself, and then I will go tell everyone all about them!

I leap from my bed and bound to my desk, opening the drawer and gently removing my prized possession: My red- leather bound Dream Journal. I open to a blank page and as soon as I have my hot little hands on a pencil, I begin documenting every detail I can remember. I have to work fast; Greedy has breakfast on the table and I don't want to be late again! I finish up the final touches on a doodle of some sort of metal worm thing that can transmurf smurfs underground, and quickly shut the book and return it to its place. Noticing the time, I hasten to smurf a pair of clean pants and change out of my nightshirt. I'll brush my teeth when I get back. Not like I'm gonna be kissing anyone. I roll my eyes a little apathetically. One good thing about being thought of as just a dreamer without a cause is that nobody takes a shine to you, so therefore you don't have to smurf the extra effort to look pristine at the breakfast table. Figures.

I give my messy, dark colored hair a quick comb, and schlep on a white hat, not bothering to lock the door as I left my Mushroom house. I start running for the mess hall, hoping that somebody saved me at least one smurfberry pancake, or muffin, or something!

I'm in luck. They haven't even started yet. "Ah, Dreamy." An older sounding, more distinguished voice spoke, "how did you sleep last night?"

Papa smurf. Our father figure and caretaker. He always asks the same questions every morning, 'How did you sleep last night', 'have you seen Hefty this morning', 'can you help pick smurfberries today' and finally ending with 'and Dreamy- Can you please Try to keep your head out of the clouds today? We need you to help.' After 200 years, he starts to sound like a broken record. "As well as an insomniac can, I suppose." I mumble a reply, rubbing the sleep more out of my eyes, which are ringed with dark circles from lack of sleep.

"Mm-hmm, I can see. Say, have you seen Hefty this morning?" Papa smurf asked, as if reading from some sort of mental script.

Suppressing a sigh, I reply calmly "I haven't seen him all day. I assume he's still on his morning jog."

"Ah, yes, that's good. Exercise is good for the mind and body!" he replied, stretching his old joints. "Oh Dreamy, I almost forgot. Would you mind helping with the smurfberry harvest today? The crops have been so plentiful this year we almost don't have enough smurfs to smurf the whole harvest!"

I bit my tongue in some kind of emotion I can't identify. "Sure thing, Papa Smurf." I reply through partially clenched teeth.

He didn't even seem to notice. He simply scratched his white beard some and spoke empty words of thanks. I turned to go smurf myself a seat, but he stops me. "Oh and Dreamy?"

I already know what he'll say next. I clench my fists ever so slightly and reply, "Yes, Papa Smurf?"

"Please try to keep your head out of the clouds today… We need your help or we won't be able to smurf all the smurfberry crops to the silo before the winter!" Papa said, concluding the script he'd mentally rehearsed.

I've heard it hundreds of times, and yet, for some reason, I always cringe a little at the last lines. Everyone said it to me- get your head out of the clouds, Dreamy. Even my own brother says that. I plaster a false grin on my face and reply, "I'll try, Papa Smurf."

He muttered some thanks and goodbyes and took his place at the head of the table. Well, I might as well get something to eat so I can get to smurfing those smurfberries. I take a seat next to my 'reliable' friends, Nat, Lazy, and Flier. Nat's bulbous straw hat covers up a little less than half his face as he speaks with his slightly scratchy and childish voice "Hiya, Dreamy! What'd you dream about?"

I feel my eyes light up a little more. "Oh, Smurfy, SMURFY things, Nat! I saw a worm thing that can carry smurfs place to place from underground, and- and- boxes that had music and voices inside, and-" I'm quickly cut off by Lazy waking from his sleep and speaking as if he'd been awake and alert the entire time.

"whaaa? A worm that carries smurfs places? That's resmurfulous, Dreamy! Even for you!" Lazy yawned, his drowsy voice and half-open eyes betraying his sleepiness.

His words stung a little. "Yeah, Dreamy. I mean, worms are cool n' all," Nat said, pushing his hat out of his face "but a big worm carrying smurfs to places underground? Get real, Dreamy. That's never gonna smurf in a million years!"

Nat's words stung too. So much for best friends. "Now, I wouldn't say that, Nat." Flier's voice chimed in.

I expected another bee sting of a remark. "I think the idea itself sounds absolutely smurfy." He said.

I turned my head and looked at him. He had a feather shaped birthmark under his left eye, only a shade or two darker than the rest of his skin, which was a deep cerulean. "The only way it could be smurfier is if it was like that flying machine you were talking about last month." He replied.

I blushed ever so slightly, hoping no smurf would take notice. I can't believe he actually remembered... "Well, if you say so, Fly. C'mon, Lazy. Tailor wanted us to go smurf him some herbs so he can tan the leather to make everysmurf new work gloves." Nat concluded, sliding his significantly smaller smurfling rump off the picnic table and taking Lazy by the elbow.

Then I was left with Fly. I'm not sure why, but for some reason, it feels so—hard for me to be alone with him sometimes. I just feel so—hot in my cheeks whenever I'm alone with him… It's like how Hefty describes his being with Smurfette. But—we're two male smurfs- so why do I feel like my cheeks are on fire whenever he looks me in the eyes? I finally piped up, "Thanks for defending me there, Fly. You're a true friend." I paused for a moment to finish smurfing my plate, "Even if you don't mean it."

"What makes you think I don't mean it? I wouldn't say it in the first place if it wasn't true." He said, honestly in his voice. "I like listening to your dreams, Dreamy. The world needs more dreamers."

I couldn't help but blush a deep shade of purple. Feeling slightly embarrassed, and hoping he can't see, I gather my dishes quickly and stand. "Yes- well—thanks again, Fly. Your friendship means a lot to me— WHOOPS!"

I hardly noticed that he'd come around the table to help gather dishes and I just about ran right straight into him. He's a bit taller than I am. Older, I think, too. And he's got a wider chest than I do. Smurf, I almost feel dwarfed in comparison! Now I wish I'd brushed my teeth…"hehe, careful!" He says, his husky voice vibrating in his chest. "We already have ONE clumsy smurf."

I just laugh a little stupidly, feeling like Sassette, or something, and hope he doesn't notice how red my face is. "hehahe… uh—yeah… I'll be more careful, Fly" I stutter a little.

He helps me stack the dishes and carry them to the sink for some unlucky smurf to toil over. "I'll be in my shed working on a new plan. See ya later, Dreamer." He says leaving me at the sink.

"Uh- yeah—see ya" I reply.

I can't stop the little grin inside me. He's called me Dreamer for as long as I can remember. Maybe it's because it was my first word? Heh. I don't know. But I must admit, I think its kind of a mixed message. See, everyone else in the village calls me Dreamer too. Except they call me that when I mess something up. They call me Dreamer when I break something because I wasn't paying attention.

They call me Dreamer when they know something I tell them will never happen.

But Fly—he calls me that as a term of endearment, I think. Or at least I hope. Or wish.

I snap out of my thoughts and started walking to the smurfberry patches. Dearest Papa smurf wouldn't be very happy if he caught me with my head in the clouds.