Where Dreams Blossom: The Wind of Past Times

Ethan slumped at the kitchen table, his small shoulders drooping like a wilted flower. The scrambled eggs on his plate looked like a pale, lumpy sun, but Ethan didn’t feel sunny at all. Outside, through the window, autumn leaves were putting on a spectacular show. Bright reds, fiery oranges, and sunshine yellows swirled in the breeze like dancing fairies, twirling and twisting before floating gently to the ground. But Ethan didn’t notice. His gaze was fixed, as if glued, on Rusty, a scrappy mutt with fur the color of dried mud and mismatched socks. Rusty was trotting jauntily past the window, his tail wagging with such enthusiastic joy it looked like it might fly right off! Rusty, Ethan thought, had the best life ever.

«Ethan,» Mom chirped, her voice as bright as the autumn leaves outside, «eat your breakfast, honey. You’ll be late for school!» She smoothed his unruly brown hair, but Ethan just sighed, pushing the eggs around his plate with his fork.

«School’s so boring, Mom,» he mumbled, his voice muffled by the weight of his unhappiness. «Numbers and letters… it’s all just squiggles!» He made little air quotes with his fingers when he said «squiggles.» They looked much more fun than his homework.

Mom chuckled, a warm, comforting sound. «They’re not squiggles, sweetie. They’re the key to a whole world of adventures! Learning is an adventure!» She winked, but Ethan highly doubted that.

Adventures, in Ethan’s opinion, involved digging in the dirt until your fingernails turned black, chasing squirrels through rustling piles of leaves, and barking (very loudly!) at passing cars. Adventures smelled like damp earth and tasted like forbidden cookies. Rusty seemed to understand all this. He certainly wasn’t doing homework out there.

As Ethan trudged to school, his backpack feeling heavier than it should, he kept a hopeful eye out for Rusty. Finally, there he was! Rusty was weaving through the neighborhood, nose to the ground, tail wagging with that signature happy bounce, a picture of carefree joy. Ethan imagined Rusty’s day: a delicious sniff of the bakery’s bread, a playful chase with a friendly butterfly, a long, satisfying nap in a sunbeam. «Oh, to be a dog!» Ethan wished with all his might, his voice barely a whisper. «Just for one day…

That night, tucked into his cozy bed, surrounded by his army of well-loved stuffed animals – a grumpy-looking teddy bear, a one-eared bunny, and a brave knight dragon – Ethan’s thoughts swirled with images of Rusty. What was it like to sleep under a blanket of stars, the cool night air tickling your nose? To sniff out hidden treasures with every twitch of your wet, black nose? To be loved unconditionally, just for being you?

He closed his eyes, picturing Rusty’s freedom. He imagined soft fur, floppy ears, and a world seen from down low, where smells were bigger and the wind whispered secrets only dogs could understand.

He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of chasing rabbits through sun-dappled meadows, the wind whipping through his imaginary fur, the taste of freedom on his tongue… a very dog-like dream. But the rabbits weren’t the kind you’d find in a field. In one dream he chased the scent of a juicy bone on the wind, weaving through streets littered with broken glass. In another, he bravely defended his territory from a giant, mean… cat? Except it wasn’t scary, it was just clumsy and wore a ridiculous hat, scattering yarn and string everywhere it went. And in a third dream, Ethan chasing his own tail in wild circles until the world was just a blur. Sometimes, Ethan worried he actually caught his tail, the universe would implode.

The next morning, Ethan woke up with a start. Sunlight streamed through his window, painting stripes across his familiar room. He stretched, yawned… and a strange, unfamiliar bark rumbled in his throat, vibrating deep in his chest. He blinked, confused. Something felt… different. He looked down.