Where Dreams Blossom: The Wind of Past Times. Alex Chekhanovski

as his bed, but it felt… right.

      Meanwhile, Across Town…

      Ethan huddled in a cardboard box behind a dumpster, shivering in the cold night air. The wind howled through the alleyway, carrying with it the stench of garbage and despair. He pulled the edges of the box tighter around him, trying to ward off the biting chill.

      He had spent the day exploring the neighborhood, enjoying the freedom and adventure of being a dog. He had chased squirrels, sniffed out hidden treasures, and even managed to snag a discarded hot dog from a nearby park. But as darkness fell, a wave of loneliness washed over him. There was no warm bed to crawl into, no loving hands to scratch him behind the ears, no one to tell him he was a good boy.

      Now, as he shivered in the cold, he started to realize that being a dog wasn’t as fun as he had imagined. It was cold, it was lonely, and it was downright scary. He missed Mom, he missed his warm bed, he even missed… gasp… school.

      He closed his eyes, trying to conjure up a vision of his cozy room, his stuffed animals, his familiar routine. But all he could see was the harsh reality of his current situation: the cold, the darkness, and the gnawing feeling of hunger.

      As he drifted off to sleep, his dreams were filled with images of warm houses, loving families, and endless bowls of kibble. He woke up several times during the night, shivering and whimpering, his heart aching with loneliness and regret.

      By the time the sun finally peeked over the horizon, Ethan was exhausted, cold, and miserable. He realized that being a dog wasn’t a game, it was a struggle. And he knew, deep down, that he had to find a way to get back to his old life.

      Chapter 5: Yard Games and Silent Pledges

      The first rays of dawn crept through the grimy alleyway, painting the dumpster and the surrounding garbage cans in a pale, sickly light. Ethan, still shivering and exhausted, slowly unwound himself from the cramped cardboard box that had offered so little comfort during the long night. His paws ached, his fur was matted with dirt, and his stomach growled with hunger. He felt miserable, defeated, and utterly alone.

      With heavy steps, he trudged out of the alleyway and onto the quiet, deserted street. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. He just knew that he had to find a way to get back home.

      Driven by a faint glimmer of hope, he started walking in the direction of his house, his nose twitching, trying to catch a familiar scent. As he rounded the corner onto his street, his heart skipped a beat. There it was! His house, bathed in the golden morning light, looked like a beacon of warmth and comfort.

      He crept closer, his tail wagging tentatively. He could hear laughter coming from the backyard. With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, he peeked through the gap in the wooden fence.

      And there they were: Mom and Rusty. Mom was holding a bright red tennis ball, and Rusty was jumping and barking with unbridled joy, chasing after it with boundless energy. Mom was laughing, her face glowing with happiness, as she threw the ball again and again.

      A pang of longing shot through Ethan’s heart. He missed Mom, he missed his home, he missed the simple pleasures of their shared life. He wanted to run into the yard, to lick Mom’s face, to join in the game. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, that he missed her, that he would never take her love for granted again.

      He opened his mouth to speak, to call out her name, but all that came out was a muffled whimper. He was trapped in Rusty’s body, unable to communicate, unable to express the emotions that were churning inside him.

      Tears welled up in his eyes. He turned away from the fence, his heart aching with a pain he had never known before. He couldn’t bear to watch them, to see Rusty living his life, to witness the joy that he had taken for granted.

      With heavy steps, he walked away from his house, his head hung low, his tail dragging on the ground. He found a secluded spot beneath a large, overgrown bush in a nearby park, far away from the laughter and the warmth. He curled up in a ball, his body trembling with cold and exhaustion.

      As he drifted off to sleep, he made a silent pledge to himself. If he ever got the chance to be Ethan again, he would be the best son a mother could ask for. He would appreciate every moment, every hug, every bedtime story. He would never complain about school, or oatmeal, or brushing his teeth. He would cherish his family, his home, and his life, and he would never, ever take anything for granted again.

      This chapter emphasizes Ethan’s longing for his home and family, his inability to communicate, and his heartfelt promise to be a better son if he gets the chance. It also underscores the emotional toll of his experience as a stray dog.

      Chapter 6: A Rude Awakening and a Reciprocal Regret

      A jolt of warmth flooded through Ethan’s body, pulling him from the depths of his exhausted sleep. He blinked his eyes open, disoriented, and stared up at the familiar ceiling of his bedroom. The sunlight streamed through the window, painting stripes across the walls. He was in his own bed, surrounded by his stuffed animals, safe and sound.

      He sat up, his heart pounding, his mind racing. Had it all been a dream? The dog body, the freedom, the cold night in the cardboard box… was it just a figment of his imagination?

      He looked down at his hands. They were small and pink, with neatly trimmed fingernails. Not furry paws with calloused pads. He wiggled his toes. They were warm and snug in his favorite pair of blue socks. Not bare and exposed to the cold concrete.

      A wave of relief washed over him, so powerful it almost knocked him off the bed. He was back! He was Ethan again! The nightmare was over!

      With a whoop of joy, he leaped out of bed and raced down the stairs, his bare feet slapping against the wooden steps. He burst into the kitchen, his heart overflowing with happiness.

      There she was! Mom, standing at the stove, humming a cheerful tune as she stirred a pot of… oatmeal? He didn’t care! It could have been mud, for all he cared, as long as it was Mom who made it.

      He ran to her and threw his arms around her, burying his face in her soft hair. «Mom! Mom! I love you!» he exclaimed, squeezing her tight.

      Mom chuckled, surprised by his sudden outburst of affection. «What’s gotten into you, sweetie?» she asked, patting his back. «Did you have a bad dream?»

      «The worst!» Ethan replied, his voice muffled by her hair. «But it’s over now! I’m home! I’m back!»

      He pulled away and looked at her, his eyes shining with gratitude. «Thank you, Mom,» he said, his voice sincere. «Thank you for everything.»

      Mom smiled, her heart overflowing with love for her son. «You’re welcome, sweetie,» she said, wiping a stray tear from her eye. «Now, come and eat your breakfast. It’s getting cold.»

      Ethan sat down at the table, his eyes fixed on the bowl of oatmeal. He had never appreciated it before, but now, after spending a night in a cardboard box, it looked like the most delicious thing he had ever seen.

      He grabbed a spoon and shoveled a mouthful into his mouth. It was warm, sweet, and comforting. «This is the best oatmeal I’ve ever tasted in my life!» he declared, his eyes sparkling with happiness.

      Mom laughed. «Well, I’m glad you like it,» she said. «Maybe you’ll eat it without complaining from now on.»