ORIGINS: The eyes of the fourth character in the original series reminded us of a polar bear cub sleeping under fishbones in lieu of a blanket. And we decided to use this series to kiss goodnight to the innocence of some animals that still knew how to dream.
Why would I resent those fishbones? Goodnight kisses shouldn’t trap you in a dream, they should prepare you for the next sunrise. Personally, I am glad that my innocence is gone. And I will always be thankful to the one that put those kisses on my forehead. For letting me see the world I have to live in. And keeping my innocence from dragging me to the darkest part of my heart, where I would have had to share its grave.
If I had to describe my innocence, I would say that it was a snow leopard. Dreams weren’t what defined me as a child. I liked being alone. I always thought that I would make my own way in the world. And I liked the fact that there was no word that lumped snow leopards together into a group. It gave me hope. But one night the bones of a bird whispered in my ear. Those dirty bones told me that there is no freedom in this world. That innocence dies, regardless of its shape, and children grow up to be flock animals.
I used to look forward to my life, to the path I could feel beneath my feet, beckoning me to follow it beyond the horizon. I couldn’t wait to create more memories than there were stars in the night sky. Wonderful, bright memories, that would warm my heart. I was an innocent elephant that didn’t know anything about the world. And I just wish someone had kissed me goodnight. I just wish someone had blessed me with a three-second memory. Because I still have a long, dusty way ahead of me, and I can already tell that there will be no stars in sight. And my memories will be just that. Dust, I wish I could leave in my wake.
I was happy. I could laugh from the bottom of my heart. I was a fawn, with stars in my fur. But one day a little bird told me that I would never be able to touch the stars above. That it had wings, that it had tried and it had failed, and I would be no different. I had never felt that something was missing in my life until that day. I loved myself. I was happy in my skin. But that little bird opened my eyes to how big the world really is. It made me feel small. Alone. Empty holes replaced my stars, and my laughter oozed from them. And if this is how grown-ups feel, I wish that bird had kept its curse for itself. Because other people’s songs are a poor substitute for the happiness my heart can’t feel anymore.
Sure, my bear had magical dreams, but this isn’t so bad. I have seen what is left when people rot away. I have seen the worst they have to offer, and now I know better than to get my hopes up. Don’t be sad. I am not. Just think, if one day I happen to see the best, it will come as a delightful surprise. And isn’t that preferable to the disappointment of spending the rest of my life waiting in vain?
Do you know what I have seen through the eye socket of this dead bird? That there will be no footprints in the snow. You may think that snow leopards are solitary creatures, but mine was never alone. He had a dream, and he would have done anything for it. He would have followed it anywhere. Because he didn’t know that perfection has no place in this world. But the snow does know. And that is why it makes sure to cover every last footprint. Because no dream deserves to become an ugly reality. And even though it hurts, I agree. Soon enough, I will learn to live with this loneliness.
Sometimes I wonder if elephants envy little fish like me. I wonder if they envy our three-second memory, and I can’t help but pity them. Because at least I can be hopeful. My memory doesn’t discriminate. I don’t remember the good, I don’t remember the bad, and that allows me to hope for the best. When I close my eyes, I can fill my dreams to the brim with things that would make me happy. But elephants don’t forget anything, and I am pretty sure that it doesn’t take them long to lose their ability to dream.
Can’t you guess what my heartbeat sounds like? Do I really have to put those screams into words? Alright. Here you go. I wish I had never slept under a blanket of stars, trapping my dreams close to my heart to keep it warm. But fawns don’t choose their fur. I dreamt, because that is what children do. I dreamt of flying, of touching the real stars with my own two hands. But now I wish I had never left myself vulnerable to so much hurt. Because I know that all birds have their graves in the ground. And disappointment just puts us there sooner.