About A Dream

It’s Christmas morning and I don’t think anyone underestimates holiday excitement. Milo certainly doesn’t. My beloved eight-year-old best friend loves Christmas for the reasons all kids do, it’s magical. There are presents, and food, and snow, and the list goes on forever. On the other hand, my reasons are a little unpopular. They include individual entertainment and evolution. See, holiday season is glow up season for me, and I’m always up for a makeover. It entertains me because it’s also time for Milo’s parents creativity and conviction test.

Each Christmas he asks Santa for a pet, whether mystical, magical, wild, or domestic. Truly, I feel like I’ve lived a lor more Christmases than just the six I actually have, considering all the species he lists up.

Ever since he met the fat bearded guy in the red suit, he’s asked for a total of sixteen animals, and his parents always have to—more like try to— come up to with a coherent enough reason, for their extremely skeptical kid, as to why Santa couldn’t get him what he asked for. Santa could just send a note explaining it all, so we don’t have to witness Mom and Dad fail miserably with some excuse we all know Milo doesn’t buy, but he never has.

After this, it’s the cue for my glow up to begin and get a new power. When no present contains the desired creature for him to love, I get the best feature of it. I can breathe underwater, I’m the best golden retriever there will ever be, I can jump from wherever and always land on my feet, I can even make myself invisible, fly and spit fire. I can do a lot more, but to avoid sounding conceited, I’m going to leave them to the imagination. I’m “living” proof that someone’s imagination here knows no boundaries.

Milo is a very clever boy; he takes care of every possible scenario. Which is why, I’ve got to admit, it was surprising Santa couldn’t get him a dragon. He knew it was difficult, that’s why he put in a second option, he is not dumb. You don’t go asking Santa to get you a Dragon without suggesting a plan B. You have to make things as easy as possible for such an old man.  If Santa can’t get you a dragon, make sure you tell him you can settle for a unicorn. It’s pure logic.

When he found a stuffed unicorn and a stuffed dragon under the tree that morning, it was truly a major bummer. Had he been a bad kid? No, definitely not. Apparently, according to his parents, it is a known fact unicorns don’t get along with reindeers, and dragons can’t live where it snows. Yeah, he didn’t believe any of it. He wasn’t the type of kid who dares to ask for such animals without doing proper research about them, can you imagine how irresponsible that would be? Of course, he knew a unicorn and a reindeer don’t get along. They are very competitive, always arguing about how two horns are better than one, who’s the best at flying, that rainbows are better than snow, and many other unresolved debacles that he carefully considered — which is why he suggested Santa give the unicorn his address and send to Milo's house. He was even sparing Santa the trouble of having to go all the way to here.

And as for the dragon, he had that covered too, he specifically shared his concerns with Santa asking him to drop off the dragon at his cousin’s house in Florida. Joey also wanted a dragon and this way they could take care of him together. Winter and fall at Joey’s and summer and spring at Milo´s. He had it all figured out.

I met Milo the Dragon/Unicorn Christmas. I was born as a dragocorn, you could say.

Years went by, and no matter how many plans, recommendations and solutions Milo tried to prevent for Santa on his letter, he always got his heart broken. And since I was there to pick up the pieces every time and I needed no Santa or pretentious reindeers to be by his side, he got to have all the pets he wished for in me.

As he got older, his petitions started getting more realistic, and writing Santa’s letter became a really big deal that involved months of planning and analysis. Standing in front of his murder case investigation looking Christmas pin board,  he cracked the code for this year’s present. Taking into account that if the problem with getting him a ten-year-old golden retriever last Christmas was that Santa couldn’t drive and take care of such a big and energetic dog, he figured that if he asked for a small and rather calm breed, making Santa’s job easier. What I haven’t told him is that this year’s pet choice doesn’t excite me that much. I can’t even name a feature a pug has remotely extraordinary. And if Milo does get one, those wrinkled creatures kind of freak me out. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I wish every Christmas Milo doesn’t get what he wants so that I do, if anything, I’m up for a new colleague, we’ve had a few game ideas that are no party for two.

Oh my God, he is waking up. The fun is about to start; I could never dare to sneak a look at the tree without him.

Will this finally be the day?

As realization takes over his sleepy eyes, covers fly to the floor and he is up in no time, knocking me off the bed in the process. We quickly dress up, I comb my mane and polish my horn. Milo styles his hair to the side and puts on his best pair of socks and changes his pajamas. I suggest he better wear his hair back. Off to the side he looked like a nerd, and he is not a nerd he is wise. Christmas is a big deal for us, as you may notice, we like to receive it as well presented as we can muster. He apologizes, quickly helps me up, and we run downstairs toward the infamous tree most of the world stares up at right this second.

Sadly, no living sound inside any gift. I’m grateful, though, he might have killed the poor thing shaking the boxes like that. He looks at me, acquainted with the feeling, and pats my head. I lean onto his hand, careful not to tear his eye out with my horn. Oh no, what would the power be? Explosive snorts? Super flexible whip donut shaped tail? Secret compartments with unlimited space hidden in my new wrinkles? How can we fight big vicious monsters with any of those?

His parents come downstairs, then. I’m sorting through a couple of reasons behind the absence of a living being under the tree, when I see Mom is holding a box. Milo is surprised too. What might that be?

I think we both know even before the puppy’s head pokes out the box. In no time Milo has the little fur ball in his arms, glowing with happiness. We jump, we laugh, we cry­ — Well, actually I cry. I’m the sentimental one, and he always gives me a look as if saying “pull it together”, it’s our thing.

He lets me pat its head, so soft, so ugly yet so undeniably cute. Why do I just love him instantly? How could he ever freak me out?

Dad tells Milo he’s shown Santa he is now old enough to have a pet and understand the responsibilities of it. Well, Santa certainly took his time figuring that one out. To me it’s a no brainer—though I don’t think I have a brain… Anyway, Milo is the most suitable kid for a pet. I mean, look at me, I turned out fine, and believe me, I’m a lot to handle.

Mom asks us to decide on the puppy’s name. I suggest a couple, honoring all of my favorite things in the world, because puppy here already made it into that list. I think my options are amazing and strong, but Milo vetoes most of them, and the others go to the idea box— which is the same as vetoing them. I have Branch, because I love branches. Veto. There’s laser, an homage to that time super spy Milo and I had to carefully cross a deadly laser trap to save the world. Veto. I suggest Nemo, for I´m part clown fish. Veto. He had a valid point though with that, no one would take us seriously if Nemo went missing. He always considers even the tiniest of details.

These past months have been pure joy. We have become the best of friends with Jack Jack—yes, twice, like The Incredibles’ Baby. We have taught him everything we knew about spies, pirates, monsters, dragons, and of course, how to pee and poo outside and whatnot.  The only thing we didn’t teach him was to read Milo’s mind, he had that mastered already from day one. He knows what Milo needs even before Milo does. That is his great superpower,  hence the name. In the movie, they were all surprised at Jack Jack’s abilities, and Milo and I sure were too.

Turns out Jack Jack is a great team player, and with his superpower, a rearrangement on the roles at our play dates was done, so that it could be seized at its maximum. Jack Jack is now Milo’s first mate. Even if I wasn’t expecting to pass on the torch so soon, still, I am really proud. He is my pupil now, so anytime I can, I help him out. Sharing the knowledge and powers I acquired after six years of experience being Milo’s sidekick. These include fighting skills, treasure hunting, and smooth opponent intervention.

I’m getting the hang of my new position too. It basically consists of keeping an eye out. I think I need to do better, though. Milo notices everything first and handles the situation flawlessly with Jack Jack before I can intervene, but a heads up is always welcome. Most times it is hard for me to keep up, they are always ten steps ahead. I guess I’m fine with it. I’m able to protect them, with my powers and all, so I know I’m the best one for the job.

Our adventures consist of this system now. I’m not as active as I’d like to be, actually. They don’t seem to need me much, they handle adversities like the fierce warriors they are marvelously on their own. They even forget I’m there sometimes, but that may be due to the fact I’m a quiet observer, a trait I mastered so that enemies are unaware the almighty eagle-eyed guard has spotted them in the shadows, and the even mightier warriors are on their way, ready for battles.

It wasn’t until I realized I couldn’t breathe underwater or make myself invisible anymore, that I started to realize that I was dying. I noticed I was fading and no one but me was aware of it.

I tried it all to get Milo’s or Jack Jack’s attention back. My life depended on it.

Every attempt failed. Milo was so captivated by how great of a pirate, spy, superhero, anything really, Jack Jack had become, he forgot about me. After all our adventures saving the world from utter destruction, how could he? These existential thoughts circle around my head on this silent peaceful night. The night I didn’t know would be my last. I’m fading, and fast.  

With tears in my eye and three broken hearts, I look over at Milo, he is sound asleep hugging Jack Jack tight to his chest. They’re so happy. I love them. Then I look at the Christmas pin board. It’s full of our missions, so beautiful and treasured memories. It used to be full of drawings of Milo and me celebrating all of our victories, now Jack Jack is up there too. That time we went to the moon, or when we discovered a deserted island. I smile at one were we are riding dinosaurs, that was a great day. It’s been good. It’s been great, actually.  

There are also drawings of me growing up. Six awesome versions of me are lined up at the bottom, each one better than the one before. The seventh picture is Jack Jack, it’s not a drawing though, it’s a photograph.

That’s when it hits me. I represented the pet he dreamed of having one day. And now that he had Jack Jack, that dream had come true. My powers were not gone, they had been passed on to Jack Jack. He didn’t forget about me, I became real.

Now it’s my time to go, and while I´m gone, I’ll be eagerly waiting for the time when I take the shape of another dream.