Julian, Dream Doctor

by Ann Cameron

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 1990 by Ann Cameron. Illustrations copyright © 1990 by Ann Strugnell.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York. Originally published by Random House Young Readers Group, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, in 1990.

  RANDOM HOUSE and colophon are registered trademarks and A STEPPING STONE BOOK and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  www.steppingstonesbooks.com

  www.randomhouse.com/kids

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at

  www.randomhouse.com/teachers

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Cameron, Ann.

  Julian, dream doctor / by Ann Cameron ; illustrated by Ann Strugnell.

  p. cm.—“A Stepping Stone book.”

  SUMMARY: Julian and Huey try to find the perfect birthday gift for Dad, with amusing results.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-80019-0

  [1. Gifts—Fiction. 2. Birthdays—Fiction. 3. Family life—Fiction. 4. African Americans—Fiction.] I. Strugnell, Ann, ill. II. Title.

  PZ7.C1427Jr 2006 [Fic]—dc22 2005036384

  v3.1

  To my cousin Charlotte, who, like Julian’s mom,

  has a cool head and a warm heart

  To Gerardo, who caught dozens of snakes when he was young, and thousands and thousands of frogs, and who is a rodeo champion and knows how to fix busted trucks

  And to Maria, who has her whole life before her

  —A.C.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  1. My Mom and My Dad

  2. My Very Good Idea

  3. Simple Things

  4. Brain Waves

  5. An Answer from the Deep

  6. Blue Fang’s Children

  7. The Prisoners and the Party

  8. Dream Delivery

  9. The End of a Dream

  About the Author

  1.

  My Mom and My Dad

  I love my mom and dad very much. This is what they are like.

  My dad is a quick-moving man. He likes to play jokes, and he is full of surprises. Sometimes he even surprises himself.

  My dad is a very good athlete. He is teaching me running, and basketball, and other sports.

  When he runs, he is fast as fire. When he shoots baskets, he is quick as lightning. Afterward, when he rests, he is quiet as a turtle at the bottom of the sea.

  The worst thing about my dad is how he gets impatient. My mom never does that. When I want to talk to her, she will always listen. If I have a problem, she helps me work it out.

  My mom is never in a hurry. If she meets somebody and asks, “How are you?” she always takes the time to hear the real answer.

  My mom is like a cool green planet with forests and flowers and waterfalls. Any place around her is a good place to be.

  Another thing about my mom: she never yells. She always talks softly.

  Just to show you how she does not yell:

  The day my little brother, Huey, fed his milk to the goldfish, my mom did not yell.

  The day Huey practiced being a mechanic like Dad and put sugar in the gas tank of her car, my mom did not yell.

  The day I tried to give Huey a bath from the upstairs window, but my mom was the person who walked under the window instead of Huey—she did not yell. She was NOT happy. But she did not yell.

  This summer, when I found out about my dad’s biggest dream and gave it to him for his birthday—even then, my mom did not yell.

  My dad yelled, though. He yelled enough for two.

  This is how it happened.

  2.

  My Very Good Idea

  Every year we have a birthday party for my dad. Every year, the week before his birthday, my mom, Huey, and I go out and buy him a present.

  This year was no different.

  We went out. We got Dad a really good bowling ball. We wrapped it up and hid it in the back of the closet.

  But then I started thinking. It would be nice to do something special for my dad. It would be nice to give him a surprise party and, besides the bowling ball, one special gift—something he had always dreamed of.

  Once I thought of it, I could even imagine it happening. I could see myself showing Dad a mysterious box with a big bow on it, and Dad opening it and saying, “But Julian, nobody—nobody ever knew! This is what I’ve always dreamed of! Julian, you’re a genius! This is the most unforgettable birthday that I have ever had!”

  And then he would give me a big hug and be so excited he would lift me way off the ground.

  I could imagine it so clearly that it seemed like it had already happened. I could see my mom being surprised too and saying, “Julian, how did you ever know what Dad wanted? You must have read his mind!”

  The only thing I couldn’t imagine was what was in the box. What did Dad dream of? What did he like more than anything? I didn’t know.

  I wanted to tell my best friend, Gloria, about my idea, but she was on vacation. So I told my little brother, Huey. I got Huey to practice asking Dad questions so we could find out his secret dream.

  3.

  Simple Things

  It was night. My mom was at a meeting. My dad was supposed to have sent us to bed. But one nice thing about him is he usually forgets.

  He and Huey and I were sitting on the front porch steps. Above the lawn, fireflies flashed their lights like tiny signaling flying saucers. In the little pine tree by the corner of the house we could hear the soft, thick sounds a bird makes, arranging its wings like blankets, getting ready to sleep.

  It was a perfect time to get my dad to talk, a perfect time to find out what to get for his birthday.

  “Dad,” I said, “what do you love more than anything else in the world?”

  My dad stretched his legs out. He smiled.

  “You and Huey and Mom.”

  I was glad he said it. But it was no help in picking a special birthday present. We couldn’t give Dad us. He already had us.

  “But what do you like more than anything else in the world?” Huey asked. “Deep in your heart,” he added.

  My dad thought awhile.

  “I like simple things. For instance—the ocean.”

  Huey’s eyes widened. “That’s awfully hard to wrap!” he said.

  I kicked Huey’s foot.

  “What else do you like best of anything?” I asked.

  “Something smaller,” Huey suggested.

  My dad smiled.

  “Mountains,” he said. “I like mountains, too.”

  I figured we could wrap a mountain, but I didn’t see how we could carry it. Maybe we could ask to have it delivered. The delivery-men would have to be very, very big. I imagined them coming to the door. “Package. Special birthday delivery for Ralph Bates,” they would say.

  “Dad,” Huey said, “deep in your heart, what do you really like that’s small?”

  “Small?” Dad said. “An atom.

  “Of course I’ve never seen one,” he added. “But I like the idea of it. I like to think how tiny an atom is, and how much empty space it has inside it, and how many parts it has, all speeding around and knocking into one another like a crazy ride at the fair.”

  “An atom!” I said. It would not be hard to get. Forks, spoons, tables, dogs, hot dogs, u
niverses, and probably even monsters are all made of atoms.

  I am made of atoms too. I remembered that and tried shaking one off my hand.

  I thought it came loose. Then I tried to pick it up off the step, but I couldn’t tell if I had picked it up or not. Maybe I squashed it.

  My dad was watching me.

  “Skeeters biting you, Julian?” he asked.

  “A little,” I said. I wondered how many atoms there were in a mosquito. Probably about fifteen billion and one. We could give Dad a mosquito for his birthday and make a card that said: “Dear Dad, Here is the atom you asked for, plus fifteen billion extra.” But no matter how much Dad liked atoms, I was pretty sure he didn’t like skeeters that much.

  “How about something—not quite so small?” Huey said.

  My dad thought a long while.

  Huey and I waited. I was sure we were finally going to find it out—Dad’s real, catchable, wrappable, deliverable, secret dream.

  Dad leaned back. He looked up.

  “You know what I really like best of all?” he said.

  “See way, way up there?

  “That star.”

  4.

  Brain Waves

  My dad was at his shop. My mom was at her job. Huey was with me.

  I was sitting in the backyard, working.

  “Suppose Dad doesn’t have one?” Huey asked.

  “One what?” I said.

  “A secret dream,” Huey said.

  “Dad is a grownup,” I said. “Every grownup has a secret dream.”

  I thought I was right, but mostly I said it because I didn’t want to give up my great idea.

  “If Dad does have a secret dream, how are we going to find it out?” Huey asked.

  “It’s not going to be easy,” I said. “We are going to have to work hard.”

  “With that stuff?” Huey said. He pointed all around me. I had every one of the big pots out in the yard, plus the eggbeater and the living room fan. I was tying them all together with wire. I had the fan and the eggbeater tied at the top.

  “This is not stuff,” I said. “This is equipment.”

  “What is it going to do?” Huey asked.

  “Have you ever heard of brain waves?” I asked.

  “No,” Huey said.

  “Just like there are waves in the ocean, there are invisible waves in the air. That’s how radio and TV programs get to the house—on those waves.”

  “There aren’t little people living in the TV set?” Huey said.

  “No,” I said, “there aren’t.” I wired the last pot into the equipment and tied the whole thing to the lowest branch of the big pine tree. I moved Huey so he was directly in front of it.

  “Now,” I said, “sit here with me.”

  Huey did.

  “Brains also have waves,” I said. “With this equipment, we will pick up signals from Dad’s brain. If we concentrate on the signal, we will know what he really wants for his birthday.”

  “Okay,” Huey said. He didn’t sound convinced.

  “Close your eyes,” I said. “It helps.”

  Huey did, and I closed my eyes too.

  I concentrated on Dad. On what he wanted, deep in his heart.

  We sat a long time. I heard the pans moving in the wind. I heard the fan creak. I did not pick up any brain waves reflected from the equipment. After a while I heard something fall.

  “Did you hear that?” Huey said.

  “I did,” I said.

  “What was it?” Huey said.

  “I think it was Mom’s gumbo pot,” I said. “Are you getting any messages from Dad?”

  “No,” Huey said. “But I think I got a message from Mom. About how she doesn’t like the pots out on the lawn. Or the fan.”

  I opened my eyes. I looked at the brain wave receiver.

  “Maybe you are right,” I said. “Maybe we should take this stuff in.”

  We put the fan, the eggbeater, and the pots away. I was disappointed.

  “It was such a great-looking machine! I can’t figure out why it didn’t work!” I said. “But never mind, I have another idea.”

  Huey and I got a rope out of the garage. We took it upstairs. We tied one end to the bedpost of our bed. The other end I tied tight around my waist.

  I went to the window. The roof was very close and easy to get to, and it was practically flat. But I liked having the rope. It made me feel like a mountain climber. Also, I don’t like taking chances.

  I went out the window.

  “Okay,” I said. “Now Huey, you sit on the bed.”

  “Why?” Huey said.

  “To weigh it down,” I said.

  “Why?” Huey said.

  “In case I fall,” I said. “You and the bed will hold me.”

  “Why would you fall?” Huey said. “The roof is practically flat.”

  “In case a giant wind comes,” I said. “One that could blow me off the roof.”

  “But there’s practically no wind,” Huey said.

  His questions were spoiling everything.

  “Huey,” I said, “just sit on the bed.”

  He did.

  I looked around. I felt like an astronaut. “One giant step forward,” I said. “For science and for Dad.”

  I walked slowly like a moonwalker to where the TV antenna was attached to the roof. I held on to it with both hands.

  “Safe!” I shouted. I shut my eyes and thought about Dad. About receiving his message. Using the TV antenna as a receiver, I might see a mental picture of his special present.

  The picture would probably be in color, but I was also ready to receive in black and white.

  A long time passed. Huey didn’t say anything. Probably he had fallen asleep on the bed.

  It was hot. My feet hurt. I got no signal.

  Suddenly I heard a man’s voice, low, soft, and urgent.

  It was definitely a TV kind of voice. It sounded like Dad would sound if he was announcing a serious pain remedy.

  “Julian,” said the voice. “Julian.”

  It sounded like Dad’s brain, waving!

  “Receiving,” I said softly, “receiving.”

  “Julian,” said the voice, “my truck isn’t working …”

  “Truck broke?” I mentally transmitted. “Birthday present? New truck?”

  “So I just jogged home for lunch.… Julian, this is your father speaking.…”

  I wanted the voice to forget about jogging and get back on the subject.

  “I know you’re my father,” I mentally transmitted. “Birthday present? New truck?”

  The volume of the signal went up.

  “Julian! Answer me! What are you DOING tied to your bed, on a rope out the window, talking to the TV antenna?”

  I opened my eyes. I turned around. I let go of the TV antenna. My brain waves shattered.

  Dad was staring at me from the window. In color. In 3-D. Live.

  “Dad!” I said. “Happy—” I was going to say happy birthday. But it wasn’t his birthday, yet.

  “Dad!” I said. “Happy day!”

  5.

  An Answer from the Deep

  Gloria was at my front door. She was wearing a blue-green blouse with a design of foamy waves on it and a shell necklace. She sparkled like the sea.

  “We had to come home from the beach early,” she said, “because of my mother’s business. But I’m glad, really. I missed you. And I had a feeling you were missing me.”

  “I missed you,” I said. “I missed you a lot. And besides, we need you to help us. We have a problem.” I told her about the surprise birthday party idea, and how we only had five days left and we still couldn’t figure out what Dad wanted for a gift. And about my mind-reading experiments that didn’t work. And how hard it was to convince my dad that climbing out on the roof was a good thing to do if you wanted to be a TV repairman when you grew up.

  “Personally,” Gloria said, “I think you should be a scientist and not a TV repairman. I think you m
ight invent something really great.”

  When my mom and dad got home, they invited Gloria to stay for lunch. We had turkey sandwiches, and my dad asked Gloria a lot about her vacation.

  When we were done eating, he drank the last of his iced tea and yawned.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “Last night was a late bowling night. I sure could use a nap.”

  “Why don’t you nap in the backyard in the hammock?” my mother suggested. “It’s nice and cool out there.”

  “If you all don’t mind—” he said.

  The screen door closed behind him.

  “You kids haven’t been together for quite a while,” my mom said, “so I’ll do the dishes. You can go outside and play. Just be careful not to wake Dad.”

  “All right,” I said.

  We went outside and talked. After a while we decided to go look at Dad to see if he was sleeping.

  We crossed the grass on tiptoe. The hammock was in the shade, tied between two tall trees. Dad was hunched down inside it. His eyes were closed. He had a grass stem in his mouth. He was blowing air out gently through his nose.

  “People look kind of funny when they sleep,” Gloria said.

  “Dad—Dad looks a little bit like a whale!” Huey whispered.

  Dad muttered something in his sleep. We stepped back.

  “I never knew Dad talked in his sleep,” I said.

  “There are people who are sleep talkers,” Gloria said. “When they’re sleeping, you can ask them questions and they will answer them. They always tell you the truth. Afterward, they don’t remember that you asked them anything.”

  “Really?” I said. “We can try it on my dad. Maybe we will find out what he wants for his birthday!”

  “He might wake up,” Gloria said.

  “He might wake up and be ANGRY,” Huey said.

  “It’s our best chance!” I said. “We ought to try it. Huey, you go first!”

  Huey didn’t move.

  “Forward!” I said. “Contact subject!”

  Huey didn’t move.

  “We’ll hold your hands,” I said.

  Gloria took one of Huey’s hands and I took the other. We all walked closer to Dad. He wasn’t muttering at all. He looked very peaceful.