What to Do

Unable to get back to sleep, Omar lay awake all night, alternatively staring at the long shadows in his room made by moonlight, and shifting for a position that might bring him some measure of rest. But he was somewhat afraid of sleeping again at any rate. If he slept, would he dream again? And if he dreamt, would it be of Shadow? Would he want to? Before he had wished only to figure out the mystery of the dream, and now he was both terrified and fascinated by that wave of powerful emotion that had swept through him, cleansing away all other sensation. But was it dangerous? Might this dream even kill him if he had it too often? Then Omar sat still for a long while, staring into nothing at all.

But apparently he had fallen asleep, because the next thing Omar knew, he was lying on top of his tousled sheets on his stomach, with his head near the foot of it. Sunlight streamed lightly on his face. He had not dreamed. Raking a hand through his hair, he levered himself up into a sitting position, just in time to hear his mother's daily cry for him to wake up. Groaning, he pushed himself off the bed and started getting ready for the day.

He was unable to push the dream from his mind today though; it haunted him relentlessly. Eclipsing all other thoughts, it became even more difficult for Omar to notice anything at all. He was nearly run over by a car on his way to school, because he had automatically started crossing the street without looking. The sound of screeching tires and burning rubber brought him back to reality. Falling over to the side, away from the car, his legs tangled with his scooter as he hit the hard pavement. Bruised only in ego, he scrambled to his feet, face burning in shame as the driver rolled down his window to yell at the stupid boy who hadn't even been paying attention. Dragging his scooter behind him, Omar fled the embarrassment, the yelling, the attention, the pain. Apparently the dream could be dangerous in more than one way.

It was a fresh spring morning, and the air was warm and moist from dewdrops. Its peace belied the rushing, pounding blood in Omar's head and in his heart. What was wrong with him? It did not befit a watcher on high to miss so important a thing as a speeding car which very well could have ended his life! He should remain quietly in the background seeing, rather than letting himself join the action. He took out his tape recorder and turned it on, his back curving around it protectively. "My head pounds and sweat runs cold on my body. But my emotions seem curiously blank for having just had a close brush with death's icy fist. I would discount it and tell myself that it was shock, but I do feel fear. It merely seems so small and insufficient enough to fill my body any more than to make me grudgingly acknowledge it. Yet I can tell by my pulse that my fear is strong. It only appears so small in light of the emotion I have sustained but recently. Those waves of pain and despair I can still remember coursing through me; they drown out the fear that beats in my heart, that just yesterday would render me nearly incapacitated. Has the tolerance of my soul been stretched so much then? Can such menial things as nearly being run over no longer capture my attention for a prolonged amount of time? Or am I only temporarily desensitized? Only time will tell me…"

Click. The tape recorder had finished, no more tape to listen to his words. He had left it running blankly for a while after that, allowing only the sound and pattern of his panting breath to betray insight into his mind. What was he to do with this blank tape? It was of no use. No use. Wasn't it? Omar really should record over it right then and there, with a classic description of the world around him: colors, tastes, touches, sounds and smells. There! A tree, green and vibrant, with new young leaves just opening themselves to the world. Hints of buds that would become beautiful blossoms soon. A slight rustle as they seemed to shrug under the damp weight they carried, shedding themselves of the burden of water. The hint of freshness that promised life to come. Brown bark, hard and rough under his hand, like a more fully-dimensioned set of scores that were the whorls and swirls on the very fingertips that touched them, on a far greater scale. And if you cut it open at the base, would it not have a unique set of rings? Was it so difficult to see the resemblance between tree bark and fingerprints? Distant evolutionary cousins though they might be, Omar could still see the link between them. Many other people could too, he knew. They were the gardeners, the people who loved tending to plants, and raising plant pokemon. Would a Sudowoodo feel the same against his fingers as this tree, he wondered? Ah, but perhaps that wasn't so good an example. Sudowoodo were rock types. He had never touched one before, but suspected it would be hard. Not rough yet still slightly elastic like the bark. Lost in the calm serenity of contemplation, he allowed himself some small peace and calm as the world was blocked out but for this one focus. No speaking into the recorder, no words at all, just undiluted thoughts flowing from the tree to him. He wasn't Omar, he just was, and if anything, he was the tree.

But alas, such sanctuaries are only temporary. A moved hand, a touch lost, connection gone. A cold breeze, like winter's last attempt to hold the world, blew over his face, between his fingertips and the bark. And the world flooded back in. The emotions and memories came back, and Omar was Omar again. He withdrew his hand, and shivered slightly. It wasn't the cold. He had never got so wrapped up in one object before, like he could almost understand every particle of it just by touching, looking, hearing, smelling. Scary. The boy turned away from the tree, mounted his scooter, and rode off towards school.

"Hey, Omar, guess what?" It was lunch time, and he looked up from his food to see a girl standing there. Who was she again? Oh, yes, her name was Ashley. A trainer of some small skill. What was he supposed to guess, with her hovering there and grinning? And with food still in his mouth. He gave an apologetic shrug instead, chewing with exaggerated jaw motions. The girl only giggled at him for a minute, while he struggled in vain to finish the bite and swallow. Then she grabbed his arm and pulled him up, when he was almost done. "C'mon, silly!" She told him, still giggling. "The show can't start without you, storyteller."

"Eh?" He blinked stupidly at her, managing to stumble along awkwardly despite the fact that she was pulling him off balance. "What's all this?"

Ashley stopped abruptly, and turned back to face him. "Sereih said she wouldn't accept my challenge unless I got you to comment on it. So won't you come, please?" Beneath her sunny, friendly smile was a pair of worried and desperate eyes. Omar wondered just how much she wanted this match. But perhaps watching something as exciting as a pokemon battle might improve his introspective mood he had had since this morning. They went outside the cafeteria, and to the mini-park that many students chose to be in during their lunch period. He heard a squelching sound and looked down in dismay at his shoes, covered now in mud. Lovely.

Sereih was there, and she smiled as the two came. "You seemed somewhat disheartened," she told him. "I thought something to distract you from whatever it is might help." She nodded at him. All he could do was smile thankfully. Based on how strong his dreams had become, he probably wouldn't be able to forget, but there was no harm in trying, now was there?

He reached into his bag and pulled out his tape recorder. "Just let me replace this tape, ok? I filled it all up already." Without waiting for confirmation, he fished in his bag, and his hand returned with a small cassette tape in a hard, clear plastic case, its film strip all blank of sound, a clean slate to begin his work on. He opened the player and removed the old tape-he considered for a moment throwing it away, but no, he needed to keep it and learn from it if possible-and replaced it with the new, empty one. The used tape he put in the plastic case that had previously housed another, not bothering to find its actual one within. The cases were all the same. Before he closed the tape inside the recorder, Omar tugged out a pen and wrote in a small hand on a white label it bore. He wrote the day's date, how he organized his tapes. Then with a small sigh of satisfaction, he clicked the recorder closed, and pressed record, holding it to his mouth like a microphone.

"Hello, hello. And a very special entertainment there is today. Welcome to this most thunderous of practices, this gladiator clash of souls and their partners to the breaking point, this pokemon battle!" He paused to catch his breath and for effect. A few kids had followed him to them, and more were coming at the sound of his booming voice. There would be a great audience for this battle. "To my right, the challenger, Ashley!" He extended his right hand straight forward towards the girl, indicating her. Then he dropped it and swung his left out towards the other. "And to my left, her opponent, Sereih! Ladies, seeing as how we don't have an infinite time, let's have this match be one-on-one, and the only time limit is the school bell. Is this agreeable?" The girls both nodded their acceptance. By now quite a few people had collected, and Omar judged that the time was right. "And now, patient audience," he said with a sweeping bow in no particular direction, "after much waiting for technical difficulties, let the match commence!" The crowd wasn't much, but it did its best, and Omar's mind was in the clouds, hearing a crowd thousands strong.

"Ladies, if you would send out your pokemon….ah, Sereih has sent out hers. I can see the light taking form as the sphere opens to reveal our good friend Pidgeotto! I saw this beautiful feathered wonder only yesterday, battling in prime form! I can see it got a good rest since then, and is ready to fight again. How inspiring, the sheer fighting spirit, the devotion, the-Oh and Ashley has thrown her pokeball now too! And what has she sent out to meet the fierce bird? It's small, it's forming now, and it's a Plusle! How cute, and look at it dancing around, with little sparks coming from its hands like pompoms! An electric type is smart against a bird, but will type advantage be enough to take out this flying fiend? We'll soon see. Begin!" He had raised one hand towards the sky as he spoke, and now Omar dropped it sharply and quickly, the universal sign for the match to start.

"And Sereih starts off ordering Pidgeotto to use a Gust attack! The wind, the wind is so strong. I feel it blowing through my hair and if I didn't have everything of mine secure, I'd fear for it blowing away. And if it gets any stronger, I fear I might be blown away myself! And I'm only getting the side winds. How that little electric mouse can hang on to the ground, I don't know, but somehow it has, and it looks just like the bravest little thing you ever saw! Clinging to the ground like that, when at any moment it might lose grip and crash into a tree. Tears are coming out of its eyes like a great waterworks; it's sooo sad! Makes me want to cry too…….Pidgeotto is slacking off it's gale of air that it has hitherto sent ruthlessly at the poor Plusle. It's even flying lower than normal; I wonder why it's letting its guard down so much-oh! It's the tears! Plusle is using Fake Tears on its opponent! This is unbelievable! Even as Pidgeotto hears my words, and the screaming of its trainer's voice, it still can't help itself. The bird is descending, slowly, so slowly. This is the power of Fake Tears! And the electric mouse is ready! It's charging up, crackling with electric power, and yes! This pokemon is getting ready to release a Spark attack! I can see the electric waves surging through its body, and now Plusle leaps at Pidgeotto! If the bird doesn't pull up in the next few seconds, it is done for! Aaaaaannnnnddd……"

Omar paused for breath, watching the two eagerly, his eyes gleaming as he breathed his very being into the recorder. "It's pulled up! Pidgeotto has regained the skies, and Plusle falls short! Only a tiny bit of electricity has bridged the two pokemon, only enough to stun for a moment, and certainly not enough to cause this bird to plummet fast enough to narrow the gap between them. No, Pidgeotto is free of the deception. And I think it's quite angry too at being tricked, almost into losing the match. So is Sereih. She's called for a Quick Attack, and Pidgeotto is climbing high into the air, ready for a steep dive that will define speed itself. And here it comes, like a falcon! But Ashley's prey mouse has found a way to protect itself. She's ordered it to charge up electricity again, and created a barrier around itself. To get to Plusle, the bird pokemon will have to go through that shocking force field first, and I don't know if it's prepared to endure that…and yes! Pidgeotto's been called off by Sereih, and it banks hard to the right to turn and climb again. But now she's called for a Sand Attack! Smart move, that, and the bird dives again! But this time it's not going for the mouse, oh no, not yet, this time it's dove towards the ground a few feet away, flaring just before it crashes into the harsh, unforgiving landscape. Slowing to a halt at the last possible second, it grabs the earth within its talons and hurls it at poor Plusle! But with the ground's conditions as they are, the dirt is too wet to be called sand. It's more like a Mud-Slap! The wave of mud has covered the electric mouse, making it most difficult for it to keep a charge outside its body. Without its greatest advantage, and the advantage of type, can Ashley and Plusle even hope to win? Time will tell, and very soon, for Sereih and Pidgeotto have launched their new offensive! With no protective barrier surrounding it, the bird pokemon swoops down unchallenged, and rakes the mouse with beak! I can see the marks on the pokemon's back where Pidgeotto has passed. And oh how horribly Plusle cries out in pain! The bird comes back once again, one more pass, one more scream from the electric rodent that lies helpless on the ground, without even the energy to run away. This is brutal, brutal I say! Plusle is finished! If Ashley can't do something now to turn this match around, then let her throw it in and save her pokemon some pain! Sereih has ordered another Quick Attack, mercilessly! I can't bear to watch, but I have to….no! Ashley has thrown herself over her pokemon, taking the bird's attack herself! Such selflessness….By her interference with this confrontation she hereby forfeits the match and victory goes to Sereih and Pidgeotto! It is over!"

A cheer went up from the students there, as Ashley cradled her injured pet to her chest with a look of dismay and concern on her face. Sereih stood haughtily with one hand on her hip, the other extended for Pidgeotto who landed on it. "Ladies and gentlemen, this has been a superb battle to watch, and an honor to speak for. Let us all give a great round of applause to the contestants! Without you, trainers, there is no battle." The surrounding people clapped mightily, paying respect to the two souls who had clashed. Omar would have said more but Ashley cried out and hurtled through the crowd, carrying Plusle in her arms. She flew across the campus and burst in through the doors to the school, presumably heading towards the nurse's office. At least she was heading in the right direction for that. They all watched as she went, franticly. Sereih turned away though, back to Omar, and smiled apologetically at him, as if to say: 'Oops, sorry for going overboard.'

Omar turned away to put his tape recorder back in his bag. Now that the euphoria of the battle, the energy rush and concentration needed to follow every little detail as it even began was leaving, and his worries started creeping up on him within the corridors of his mind. What was he going to do? He pondered over it with no end in sight when he heard one of the kids talking. "Wow, that was really high-stakes match! Did you see how professional that Sereih looked? She's just so amazing! And the Omar makes a great announcer. I can't see how he can manage to talk so fast so long without messing up his words or running out of breath. Good stuff, just like in the Pokemon League!"

Just like the Pokemon League… It rang something in his mind, stayed with him for the rest of the school day. Then, as he was riding back home on his scooter, he passed a poster on one of the walls lining the way back. It was a challenge to all trainers, to come beat the best trainers in the Lustre Challenge Tournament, the name given to their area's Pokemon League. It was only a few weeks away, and Shadow had visited it last year! Chances were that she would return to it, and Omar would be there to see her, and then, then he would figure out the origins of those disturbing dreams. He had to. That little spark of hope he had felt was dying out, and if it was Shadow's, why then she was in need, wasn't she? But no one knew how to find her. Then it was decided. He would leave in the morning. School didn't matter since his mother had already said it would be okay to leave on a pokemon journey long ago. This wasn't really much different, he rationalized, and the school year was almost over anyway.

But it was still some time before the Lustre League even began. What would he do until then? He lay that night in his bed for some time, not moving, barely breathing, staring at the ceiling he could barely see. He was afraid to go to sleep. Not only that, but wheels kept turning in his mind that would have him awake even had he wanted to rest. But perhaps there was a solution after all. Omar reached his arm out to the small table that rested by his bed, and served as a nightstand. His groping fingers closed over a small sphere. It could not be seen in this light, but were it more bright inside that room, the sphere would have shown itself to be a pokeball to the casual onlooker, the same one the boy wore on his belt during the day. He pressed the button in the center of it, and the ball expanded to the size it took to release and capture pokemon. He opened it, and his companion popped out, the liquid light from the transformation ruining what matter of night sight he had. As thus, he could not see his pokemon, but he didn't need to, to speak to it. "You get enough sleep during the day," he told it. "I want you to watch over me as I sleep, and if I scream, or seem to be in pain, then I want you to eat my dreams."