Winnie the Pooh

“I think we dream so we don’t have to be apart for so long. If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can be together all the time.”

– Winnie the Pooh

I was thinking of this quote from Mr Pooh recently after I’d had my second dream featuring Waffle in as many weeks – but more about that later.

Prior to Disney hijacking Pooh Bear for world-wide animated purposes, Winnie the Pooh (also known as Edward Bear, Pooh Bear or simply Pooh) was a fictional teddy bear created by the English author, AA Milne and compatriot Illustrator, EH Shepard and he first appeared in a London newspaper on Christmas Eve in 1925. Using my Fugaku-like supercomputing maths that means Pooh will be 100 years young next year and what is more, his popularity shows no sign of waning.

Apparently inspired by a teddy bear that Milne bought for his son, Christopher Robin in Harrods, Pooh inserted both himself and his gang into our lives at home via bedtime stories back when the little humans were even littler.

Personally, I have always had a soft spot for Pooh, perhaps because I can relate to his honey addiction or perhaps because I simply enjoy the pearls of wisdom which regularly drop from out of his mouth as well as those from, Tigger, Eeyore, Piglet and Christopher Robin; a right bunch of philosophers they are, and no mistake. For example…

“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.” (Winnie the Pooh).

Or for another example…

“It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn’t use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like, ‘What about lunch?’” (Winnie the Pooh).

Or for the final example, “What could be more important than a little something to eat?” (Also Mr Pooh).

The Confuciuses of Hundred Acre Wood have a great many pearls but for me, the most affecting passage is that heart-wrenching episode when Christopher Robin finally takes leave of his friends. If you’ve already read this, you’ll know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t read it, seek out the book, ‘The House at Pooh Corner’ and read the last chapter. It’s one of the most poignant endings to a book, ever.

But going back to my dreams when another anthropomorphic animal made his second appearance during the week. Just like Pooh Bear but without the pearls, this time in my dream Waffle actually spoke.

When this happened, as you might imagine with me being in dreamland, I passed no remarks and it wasn’t until the reveille of dawn heralded a return to the waking world that I began to experience a mild freak out at Waffle’s new found voice.

In the dream, I was in a pub. It was a work event and I was surrounded by colleagues, people sitting along padded seats in a strange hexagonal arrangement. Somehow, it was my turn to buy the first round and so I dutifully went to the bar only to discover Waffle who, at that moment, was on his hind legs rummaging through an upright container containing glass-like pebbles. Again, I passed no remarks; it felt like the most natural thing in the world to have him in the bar searching through glass pebbles and it wasn’t until I had ordered a beer that I turned to Waffle again.

“What are you at, dawg?” I asked, as he continued to rummage among the pebbles.

He replied, “I’m looking for my…”

And then I woke up.

In the waking world and in the aftermath of the reverie, I can’t remember if Waffle didn’t finish his sentence or if, with the vestiges of the dream fading like mist on a sunny morn, my dreaming mind simply lost that tidbit of information.

In any case, the fulcrum of the mad dream was the fact that Waffle had spoken with a human voice.

Guarding my dream like an egg (I was almost afraid that the subsequent day’s toil would somehow crack the shell and the dream would be lost), I waited until we were all sitting around the kitchen table that evening before recounting the bizarre tale to the fambly.

“Pity you can’t remember what he said he was looking for,” said Sarah, as we munched our way through a chicken and broccoli pasta bake.

“It could only have been one of a few things,” Herself contended. “He was either looking for his ball, his toy bone or maybe his lead.”

At that moment Anna spluttered around a mouthful of pasta and then coughed. It was as if she couldn’t wait even an instant to verbalise her thought.

She said, “Sure, if he was actually chatting, he might have been looking for his car keys.”