Friend from my dreams

Oh, how beautiful this world is! Just look! The Fanto Theater is full of interested spectators who are eagerly awaiting the start of the performance from the great Fantoccio himself! Oh, how wonderful it is to feel this thought. All these screams of joy, applause in his honor. Everything for his beloved! Finally, after a long pause, he tried to give his speech, which he had been preparing for almost a week for this speech, but what happened? To her? What's wrong? Oh, the trouble... No matter how hard he tried, no matter how wide he opened his mouth, not the slightest sound. But what happened? He couldn't lose his voice, no! But hundreds of eyes look into his soul, piercing right through. “Apparently I wasted my time to come to this worthless theater...”, “So, are you going to stand silently on stage?”, “What a disappointment...”, “It’s a shame to screw up like that!” It was coming from the auditorium, making it difficult to breathe. The legs gave way treacherously, and could no longer hold their owner, like a couple of moments before. It was the end of his beloved career in just a matter of seconds. Suddenly, the floor seems to dissolve from under his feet, and he falls under the stage, flying into the abyss. He wanted to scream, but ah! What's happened? What happened to you? Just quiet sighs and nothing. Panic overtook him, tears welled up in his eyes, and now wet, salty tracks appeared on the cheeks of the poor puppet. Tom wanted to grab onto at least something, but all that surrounded him was thick and gloomy darkness. Everything is lost, even he himself is lost in this emptiness. And how many kilometers has he already flown? How long does he have left to fly? Oh! What is this? Who is this? The bright light blinds the guy, causing him to squint, but after a moment the lighting becomes as normal as it can be. Hmm, where are you? What is this? Looking around, he realizes that he is in some strange room that looks like a castle. Wow! Look here! Look there! On each wall hung at least five clocks and pictures of an owl smiling cheerfully with different creatures. The dim light from the torches made it difficult to see who exactly it was, but the bright yellow-orange eyes stood out the most against the purple canvas of the painting. Wow! Come! Look! Taking careful, small steps towards one of these paintings, he sees a black, long-eared owl. The bird's smile is full of joy, and its eyes are interested. Hmm... Who is this? What is this? Who could this person be?Looking back again and looking at all the paintings, Fanto came to the conclusion that this was the owner of this room. But if he is in the paintings, then he’s probably wandering around here somewhere! Come on! Find him! Look for him! Trying not to make noise, he walked quietly along the long corridors that looked so strange... Everything in this place looks so strange! These walls with wonderful patterns, these carpets with interesting lines. Wait... What? A twisting staircase, but leading not upward, but straight. To her! Where does it lead? Worth checking out? Taking an uncertain step, followed by another, Fantoccio had already walked up a couple of steps. Oh no! How long! How boring! The stairs seem so long, we should speed up our walking pace. And now, our puppet is already running into the depths of the unknown. Step by step, he is approaching I don’t understand where. But wait! Stop! What kind of light is this? Such an alluring, scarlet light... Or maybe this fancy owl is waiting for him there? Come on! Run! Faster! The light seems to get closer and bigger. Here it is, the long-awaited finale! One has only to stretch out his hand, and he already touches the scarlet light. Come on! Let's! Again the eyes close from the bright glow of something, but soon everything calms down. There is a picture before my eyes: a field, damp mud, dried out trees whose foliage is not visible at all, and hundreds of graves. Approaching one of these, he tried to see who was buried here, but the text seemed to be blurred. Approaching another, history repeated itself. Are these unmarked graves? How tired I am! To her! All this loneliness was ready to eat Fantoccio, but finally, a quiet laugh was heard from somewhere. Really! Oh! What is this, an owl's laughter? We need to run and find where this sound is coming from! The guy was really tired of being alone, and also in someone else’s castle. Listening to the laughter that was playfully calling him from somewhere, Fanto came to a small gazebo. A gray, nondescript gazebo. He wouldn't have seen her in such a place, but... Oh! And here he is! Or is it? Or maybe she? A tall, black figure was sitting in the gazebo, and it seemed that this particular creature was giggling so contentedly. Coming closer, it turned around, and... — You found me! You won! Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! How do you like this game? — the owl smiled cheerfully at the guy, who was already fascinated by the fact that he had finally found someone. — Game? But I got here by accident... — an uncertain, quiet voice came from his lips, and... Oh, what? I'm sorry, what? Touching his mouth with his hand, he tried in amazement to understand how he was able to speak, at the same time his new acquaintance said: — Well, yes, a game! I played hide and seek with you and you won! How about now I seek and you hide? — spreading its huge black wings, the owl smiled again. — No, I've played enough. I’m tired of being alone, and that incident in the theater... I... — before he had time to finish, he was interrupted: — Are you really that worried about some bunch of bad spectators? Hey, they just weren't worthy of your performance! — suddenly, the head of this owl approached the puppet while the body remained in the gazebo. This person has a very flexible neck, however... Peering at its new acquaintance, the bird smiled funny. — What's your name, buddy? — now the body itself has come closer to Fanto, and the neck has become its usual length. — I’m Fantocchio, and they- — without having time to finish, they answered him earlier than the guy expected: — Barnaby! I'm Barnaby! But you can call me Barn. This is how I allow myself to be called only by friends and honored guests of my private party! — Barnaby said seriously, pacing around Fantocchio. The guy looked at the owl with wide open eyes: — Party? What party? — the palms landed on the guy’s cheeks, a spark of interest appeared in his eyes, but Barn quickly cut off: — Closed party for the dead. And you, as I see, are very much alive... Unfortunately, I won’t be able to let you in even if I wanted to. Rules, do you understand? — one of his toes walked along the puppet’s chin, which caused slight displeasure in the guy. Quickly removing his paw, he instantly went from serious to kind again. — But, if you are alive, and the party is for the dead, then this is not such a problem! I can easily fix this! - Straightening his wings, he began to laugh like an owl after finishing his sentence. Fantocchio became wary. His hands instantly slid from his cheeks to his shoulders, and then to his elbows. — You mean that... — a gloomy smile appeared on his face. — Yeah! Hee-hee! — it seemed that the owl was not tense at all. This whole topic of death did not frighten the bird at all, but as for the puppet... His legs gave way again, as during his failed performance, tears began to flow down his cheeks again. — N-no, please... Don't k-kill me! — Fanto screams sobbingly, covering his head with his hands. Slowly sliding off his feet onto the dirt, he began to sway while already sitting on the floor, but the owl stood unshakable. — You haven’t said that you will be at my party, then why would I kill you, honey? - bending down to his friend, he looked at the guy with kindness and affection, raising his wing to wipe away his tears, but... Fantocchio only began to sob harder. This whole situation made him just scream in fear, discomfort and shame. Sighs mixed with screams — now that's all Fanto could do. — Please, don't! I b-beg you! Nooo! Wooah! — closing his eyes, he began to become a little coward, which finally forced Barnaby to do at least something to calm him down. To tell the truth, the owl herself almost burst into tears at the sight of this sad guy, but in this situation, someone had to remain brave and confident! With deft movements, he used his paws as hands in order to lift Fantocchio from the ground and hug him. Gently laying his head on his, he quietly said: — Shhh, everything is fine. I'm not going to kill my friend. Do you hear? You are my friend! And my friends can get to my party while still alive! Do you hear me? - looking straight into his eyes, he said with affection in his voice, and strangely enough, this helped. Wiping his tear-stained eyes, Fanto quietly sobbed: — Y-you really don't... Will you kill me...? — Fanto asked his friend with disbelief, to which Barn nodded negatively. — Honestly! Do you want more truth? — the entity paused for an intriguing pause, which made the puppet listen further: — This rule will be exclusively for you! — said Barn, still smiling. His bright yellow-orange eyes looked at Fanto so sincerely that he could not help but smile. — Oh, thank you... I... I'm so glad that I have a friend like you! You have no idea how long I've been looking for you! — After his words, he hugged the owl tightly, so that he almost fell to the floor. The owl's eyes filled with joy, and her cheeks were slightly covered with an orange blush. Laughing happily, he hugged Fantocchio back. They probably would have hugged like this forever, but at one point Barn said: — Listen, I’m also glad that you found me, I’ll look forward to the next meeting as soon as possible. Don't worry, you won't have to look for me as long as this time! — the owl said with slight sadness, but before Fanto understood everything that his friend meant, he only managed to blink, and then...

***

With a sharp movement, he jumped out of bed, after which he began to breathe quickly. After only fifteen seconds, he began to hear the annoying sound of an alarm clock, the hands of which showed 6:45. Tapping on the device to silence it, he tiredly rubbed his eyes with his palms, humming quietly. Unexpectedly for himself, he felt that his cheeks were actually wet, which means that perhaps he even spoke in his sleep, and cried, and... — ... — Reluctantly getting out of bed, he haphazardly covers the sheet with a blanket before leaving his closet for the bathroom. Limply approaching the mirror, he turned on a thin stream of cool water, after which he scooped some into his palms, having previously folded them into the shape of a bowl. Having splashed water into his pug, he closed his eyes. The cold water actually cheered him up. He quickly found his towel, wiped his face, then turned off the water and left the bathroom. — This is all extraordinarily strange... I don’t remember having dreams like this before, and even such realistic ones... — flashed through Fantoccio’s head before he reached the kitchen. His entire living space may not be that big, but it is literally located in the theater! A place that he values as his life. Theater was not only art for him, but also a hobby, work and a cry from the heart. This was the only way he could express everything that was inside him, but so far no one is particularly interested in either his performances or Fanto himself. Of course, everyone cannot immediately get the title of favorite actor, but someone could achieve success in a very short time, and someone has been doing this business for years, but never receives the appreciation for his efforts that he deserves. With similar reasoning, he had already managed to make himself a cup of coffee and take out a pack of gingerbread cookies from the cupboard. It's modest enough for a good breakfast, but he can't afford to be luxurious every morning, because most of his expenses go to the theater, so he makes do with what he has. He’s a puppet anyway, so why does he need food in the first place? However, Fanto didn’t really want to experiment with his health, so having quickly finished with the already cooled coffee and a couple of gingerbread cookies, he headed to his closet to change clothes. His sleeping shorts and shirt flew onto the bed while he was rummaging through the closet in search of his favorite outfit. Poncho and his favorite hat, here he is - the perfect image of the great Fantoccio! As soon as he put the clothes on himself, his confidence increased and his mood became better than before. Approaching the mirror, he began to spin around in it, looking at his wonderful image. The wooden puppet is short, with rounded teeth, like a rabbit’s, peeking out from under his lips and, of course, this irresistible, confident look that hid behind him a bunch of complexes, problems and negativity. Even looking at himself now, he masterfully hid what the public, in his opinion, would definitely not be interested in. Grunting contentedly, he began to talk to himself: — Oh, how good you are! The magnificent and irresistible Fantoccio is ready to delight his audience! — the puppet said to himself enthusiastically, but the sharp memory of the fact that no one goes to his concerts cut him like a knife in the back. The smile immediately disappeared from his face, and even the feather on his cap bent a little. Coming out of his closet onto the stage that was familiar and familiar to him, he looked with annoyance into the auditorium, in which there was not a single living soul. Taking off his hat, he lifted his chin up, quickly batting his eyelashes. It was clear that he could burst into tears at any moment, but Fanto still held back these negative emotions. If he cannot control himself, then what kind of acting can we talk about? Exhaling loudly, he put his hat back on the wooden top of his head, peering at the hundreds of empty chairs. All this looked annoying and sad, so he jumped off the stage and began walking between the rows, touching the dusty chairs with his hand. On the third row, he squeezed a chair that came to hand, after which he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand. — No, something needs to be done about this. The great Fantoccio finds it difficult to look at an empty hall! — he said to himself as a funny idea suddenly came into his head. Closing his eyes halfway, he began to smile, after which a light yellow glow appeared from under his poncho. The same light appeared in one of the hands, after which one of the brooms flew up to the puppet. The rhythmic movements of the object swept away dust and other debris from the floor, after which the place where this broom had passed now seemed even lighter. Thus began the general cleaning in the main hall of the theater. Humming to himself a whimsical melody that was stuck in his head, Fanto put a few more brooms to work. Now the work will go much faster! Now buckets of water are flying towards the mops so that they can walk on the dry floor. In general, the cleaning was carried out cheerfully and cheerfully for Fanto himself, so much so that he did not even notice that he had already managed to clean the entire auditorium. The matter remains small. In an instant, two huge, wooden hands began to float in the air, which were similar to those that Fantoccio had. These pens flew backstage, taking out a lot of cardboard and several pairs of scissors with felt-tip pens. The cardboard floated in the air while scissors and markers with yellow glows outlined the outlines of people, cutting them out and placing them in visual positions. That's all! Imitation of people is ready! It's still better than desolate silence and wasteland. So you can at least imagine how interesting it is for all these people to watch the performance of the great Fantoccio! Satisfied and out of breath, he put his hands on his hips, peering with delight at the hall full of cardboard people. — Hmm, yes, that’s actually better! — the puppet began talking to himself again, sitting down on the edge of the stage. Sighing wearily, he glanced at the wall clock, the hands of which reached the beginning of one o'clock in the afternoon. He was surprised that he completed his work so quickly, but isn’t that a plus? Now he is free to rehearse his plays, to perform in front of the “public,” but for some reason this did not make him too happy. The image of that owl who called himself Barnaby popped into my head again. This image was too much stuck in Fanto’s head, which frightened him a little. As soon as he remembered this dream, he immediately fell asleep and the desire to meet him again appeared. Still, this is his first “friend” who treated him so kindly, and all this seemed so strange to him... Should he really worry so much about some kind of dream? The longer he thought about this situation, the more everything inside him tightened. And yet, why does he experience such vivid feelings just at the mere mention of this owl? He wanted to understand this so much that he was ready to go to bed right now, but he understood that he would definitely not be able to sleep in the daytime. All that remains is to wait for the end of the day, while doing your duties.

***

Minute by minute, hour by hour, time slowly dragged on, and the strong desire to encounter the same dream again was already beginning to drive the guy crazy. He had already managed to rehearse several scripts from his notebook, managed to cook and eat a delicious lunch, and even managed to take a walk outside the theater, but alas, only about five hours had passed. It's still a long way from sleep. Nervously tapping his foot on the floor out of impatience, he glanced at his watch. It seemed that they were deliberately moving the arrows so slowly. They are deliberately stalling for time. Unable to bear it, he growled and began talking to himself again: — How long can you wait?! I'll go crazy before I can sleep! What should I do all this time?! — he shouted, raising his head to the ceiling. Releasing a stream of emotions, he took a deep breath and exhaled, after which a stack of old papers and colored pencils caught his eye. Coming closer, he noticed that these were his very old pencils, which he had used to draw at the age of fifteen. Taking one of these, he walked his fingers along its entire length, remembering with what love he drew everything he saw. Lost in thought, he took one of the sheets of paper, a glass with pencils and sat down at his desk. Even if he didn't have this dream again, he would at least capture his friend on paper in his memory. Line by line, he drew the outlines of an owl, and so gradually one could see the head, his funny ears, the wings that he waved, a long neck that, like plasticine, could stretch to unimaginable sizes, eyes that had two colors at once, orange and yellow, a carefree smile, a pink bow tie on a pink tuxedo, from under which a white shirt peeked out, and of course, fluffy legs with three toes on each. The drawing was so good that even Fanto himself peered with great interest at every centimeter of the drawn character from his dream. He seemed so familiar to him, so real... His pupils dilated as something began to actively beat in the doll’s chest. The cheeks were covered with a light blush, and a stupid smile appeared on the face. Warm feelings enveloped Fantocchio as he simply looked at the drawing. How new this is all for him... All these feelings, this dream, this owl, which directly beckoned him to close his eyes, which Fanto, of course, could not refuse. Laying his head on the table near his own drawing, he tenderly looked at Barn for the last time before closing his eyes and plunging into that long-awaited sleep...