Dream Dragon

Written by Bob Liddil

   Under a shady tree and sleeping lightly, the shepherd Joben rested comfortably in deep soft grass. Scattered about in the surrounding meadow, the sheep in his charge contentedly grazed under a pleasant autumn sun. Not all was well though. Hidden from view by the thick wall of stacked fieldstone surrounding the meadow, a lone black wolf froze in mid-step. Human scent mingled with the wafting of prey. He remembered ruefully, his last encounter with humans and wished no repeat of that painful incident during which his skull had been cracked by a well-placed stone.

   As the boy slept, he dreamed the dream the always brought a smile to his face. He dreamed of the clouds and the skies and of flying amongst the birds. He dreamed. . .

   The dream dragon was a creature of the skies. It showed no fear of Joben as it approached the cloud upon which the boy stood. It landed in a flurry of wing beats, settling to a halt and then stood perfectly still. No sooner did it come to rest, than the boy strode confidently over to it and climbed boldly up onto its back as though he’d been born a dragon rider, indeed, as though dragon riding was his life.

   Powerful wings struck the air, lifting dragon and rider upward. The creature's joy became the boy’s. Likewise, Joben’s euphoria became its own. In unison, dragon and rider challenged the sky. Together as one they rose up and away from the clouds.

   Suddenly, tail whipping behind, the dragon nosed downward and plunged in a screaming dive toward the ground. Silently screaming in delight, Joben held on for dear life as it pulled out of the dive with two strokes of those powerful wings and arrowed skyward again at fantastic speed.

   They leveled off far above the pasture. From this vantage point the boy could clearly see the fieldstone fence, the meadow and the tree. He could see each of his flock and could also see himself fast asleep. He also saw the wolf, poised to move for a kill.

   Startled by seeing the wolf, Joben tried telling the dream dragon to bring him back to earth. No words came out. He screamed soundlessly but could hear only the whistle of the wind.

   The wolf rationed his strength. He had moved to within a few yards of the meadow. The only barrier standing between him and a fin meal of mutton on the hoof was the accursed wall before him. It was taller by far than he stood and the fieldstones protruded sharply at odd angles. They tore at him, mocked him in his hunger.

   Gathering himself into a running start, the wolf tried to leap the wall - almost cleared the top the wall – impacted the outer top edge with his chest and forepaws, falling back into the grass with a yelp. He tried a second time and a third, each time foiled by the accursed unknown mason who’d stacked the wall too high.

   Hunger gnawed in the wolf’s belly. Desperation lent him power. He backed away from the wall by several dozen yards marshaled all of his remaining strength, and charged the wall as he might a most hated enemy. Giving a mighty last ditch leap high into the air, he cleared the top by inches.Sweet success! The wolf was in the meadow, the shepherd was asleep and the sheep were undefended.

   Joben concentrated with his mind on the dream dragon. He used the same kind of thought talk he’d used on the cloud to convince it that he meant it no harm. Forgoing words, the boy instead formed a mental picture of what would happen if the wolf were to go unchallenged among his sheep.

   But there came no answer. Joben could wait no longer. He clinched his teeth, stood up on the dragon’s back and leaped outward into empty space. At first he fell like a stone, tumbling end over end. After a few seconds of free fall, by spreading and moving his arms and legs, the boy became better able to control his downward plummet. He discovered quickly that he could alter both the velocity and direction of his plunge toward the ground.

   The dream dragon dove also. Its speed and control were much better than the shepherd’s. Dropping smartly downward, wings tucked in tightly to its body for minimum drag, it dropped to almost ground level. At the last second the wings came out, and bit the air. The dream dragon swooped the length of the meadow in an instant and as might some great predator bird, it reached out, grabbing the unsuspecting wolf in one great claw as if it were a toy. Then it arced upward to a great height, banked, circled and released its squirming unwilling passenger snarling and pawing the air. The wolf plunged to its death with a loud thud against the same wall it had earlier scaled with such determination.

   The sheep bleated anxiously. The sound of a sound of a mighty impact startled the shepherd boy awake. Quickly he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stood full up. The dream was still alive in his mind. He’d been flying. And there’d been a wolf. . .

   Joben hastened to the far side of the meadow to where, from the air, in his dream he’d seen the wolf impact the wall. It was exactly where he’d seen it fall. It was dead and no longer posed a threat, but now loomed a larger problem.

   Joben wondered how he would dispose of the wolf’s remains, or what would be his explanation as to how the creature had come to be in its present condition. The thought of it taxed him.

   Mercifully, the sheep seemed to be calming now. Their enemy no longer a threat, they returned to their grazing with only a few fleeting bleats of distress. Crisis averted.

   The warm sun already was beginning to affect the boy, rendering him drowsy once more. He returned to the tree in the center of the meadow and lay back down in the soft grass. After a moment or two, his eyes closed and he drifted off. There’d always be time later for work.

   From the low cloud where he awaited the return of the dream dragon, Joben could see the meadow. He pondered the problem of the dead wolf. In his mind, he painted a picture of a wagon, drawn by two fine white horses, driven by a faceless farmer. The wagon moved along the road that ran alongside part of the wall and stopped at the entrance to the meadow. The farmer got down from the wagon, opened the gate, entered the meadow, fetched the wolf’s body and placed it into the wagon. Climbing into the driver’s seat, he clicked the reins and drove away with the problem.

   Joben smiled as his thought picture became reality below him. That was easy, he decided, then signaled to the dream dragon, that he was ready to resume his ride.

"Wake up, you lazy good for nothing OAF!" hard kick rudely awakened the sleeping boy.

   Joben rolled away, now absolutely awake. The cursing man delivered another blow.

   "You sleep with the gate open?" blustered the furious man, "This is how you watch the flock? This is how you earn your bread, you ungrateful whelp?"

   With surprising agility for someone so big, the man bent over and grabbed Joben by the shirt, dragged him upward to his own eye level and shook him violently. The boy’s bare feet dangled more than two feet above the ground. Releasing one hand, the man balled up a huge fist and cocked his arm to deliver a blow to be remembered.

   Joben closed his eyes and braced for the punch. Despite his fear of the reality of the instant, he concentrated his mind on the dream dragon. Suddenly, he was dropped to the ground. Something big went past in a blur, whipping the wind as it moved. Joben opened his eyes. Just like that, the boy’s master was gone.

   Quickly, Joben closed his eyes again, picturing the dream dragon as setting the man down gently.

   Joben walked over and closed the gate. He could hear a flurry of wings off in the distance and a man’s panicked screaming. He allowed himself a quiet laugh at his master’s expense.

   Satisfied that everything had once returned to normal, the boy returned to the tree and once more stretched out in the sun. The warmth of the afternoon lulled him quickly back to sleep.

   From his cloud, Joben could see his master standing in knee high grass, three meadows away from his own. The man was staring in shock into the heavens, watching the dream dragon arc upward. Joben concentrated his mind on him and painted a picture in his eyes of a cold draft ale awaiting him in a tavern where he would be surrounded by his friends. Overcome by a powerful thirst, the man stumbled away toward the village.

   Meanwhile, the dream dragon had landed on the cloud. It nudged Joben gently to let him know it was there and the boy responded by clambering aboard. They took to the air once again in a burst of joy, looping and soaring in the warm afternoon sun.

In the air and on the ground, the shepherd boy rejoiced soundlessly.