Pooky (359 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 2 on 4 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by <Art> (View user info) at 2006-11-02 10:04:28 EST
It was a gloomy night in the early 90's, and a smaller, greatly bastardized version of myself was blissfully laying in bed in the dead silent night of winter, with my night light on, and the door open a crack. I still to this day remember the light eminating from the downstairs, as inaudible conversations lulled me in to a relaxed sleep.
Outside my window was a massive Oak tree, in the heart of the concrete jungle, possibly the largest within a five mile radius, its roots struggling for breath, bursting through the cement with an overwhelming drive to survive. This tree held a special place in my heart during the day time, I was in fact proud to look out my window to a family of blue jays or what have you every morning, however at night the tree became a hellspawn whos sole purpose was to consume my eternal flesh.
I recall one particular night, I had my first real nightmare. I know this, because it is technically my first real memory of shock and horror. I recall opening my eyes, somewhat lucid, and seeing, in that tree, the silhoutte of a night romaing creature. With fear in my heart I made my way dow the hall in to the bathroom, where there was a large bat spastically flying around the room, much to my chagrin.
I have found that no matter what situation you're put in when in a dream sequence, you are ALWAYS yourself, and no matter what, will do things that you would logically do in reality, so rationally my next stop was my parents room. I hollered as I ran in to a room with two resting bodies entangled in sleep. Up they sprang, except instead of my mother and father, I came face to face with my father, and... father.
Needless to say I didn't stick around too long, a proceeded downstairs to the kitchen, where my friend was by chance waiting for me (this seemed to be a rational occurence in my dream, as I did not find it obscure at the time). I glanced outside, and saw nothing, I turned to my friend with a sigh of relief, only to be looking in to the cold pale face of a vampire, fangs glistening and a smirk on his face, like cat dangling a mouse by the strings of life. His eyes were jet black, no light penetrated his morbid scowl, and in the moment of attack, I jolted up in my bed, already screaming before realizing I was awake. I could not sleep that night, and feared the dream world for years to come.
The next day, my grandmother gave me a small teddy bear.
My grandmother used to pick through garbage on her daily routes and found this plush teddy bear, with plaid patching on his feet and ears, and a snazzy bowtie to top it all off.
When she gave me the bear, automatically I named him "Pooky", because I adored Garfield, and that's what he named his bear. My father then told me that if I were to be attacked while lying to bed, Pooky would spring to life, and grow to the size of a grizzly to protect me from any evil that may be lurking in the shadows.
I slept with Pooky every night. There would be times when my sibling would torture me by trying to keep him from me for a night, but I would put up such a fuss, stay awake looking in the same places over and over again, until she conceded. Pooky meant everything to me, and still to this day, if there was a fire in my home, he would be the first thing I would grab instinctively. Pooky was very much real to me.
I sang to him when we went to sleep (given it was the same bastardized version of the Scooby Doo song every single night), I washed him myself by hand when he got dirty, and the material on his nose has long since eroded from me biting it in my sleep. He was the comfort object to put all other comfort objects to shame.
Pooky still means the world to me; he represents the piece of all of us who wants to stay a child forever, he represents eternal innocence, and he represents the overwhelming power of a childs creative mind.
The bowtie has long since fallen off, the colour worn and faded, but the memory lives on, and although it may just be a conglomeration of synthetic fibers to comfort and soothe the soul, it served me well when I needed it most, and to that I owe my gratitude, and most definetly my respect and esteem.
So as I look over at my old friend, who's been falling apart at the seams since the day he was pulled from a garbage bin, his eyes not as bright and exuberant as they once were, and his demeanor not quite as lifelike as they were in the past, but his spirit still lives on today as long as I recall the horrors that initially caused him to spring to life
User Reviews
Submitted by Amontillado (user info) at 2006-11-02 19:12:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I have a stuffed pony my boyfriend gave me two years ago that I sleep with.
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-11-02 13:16:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by morontian (user info) at 2006-11-02 13:06:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I have a Pooky.
What? That a problem?
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-11-02 10:41:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment