"You not only can't explain love . . . actually, you can't even talk about it." —Charlie Brown from Peanuts by Charles Schultz

Part Two: The Bus Ride to School

Later that morning, Arnold sat next to his best friend Gerald in their usual seat on the city bus on their way to school. Arnold sat next to the window today, looking out at the passing buildings and landmarks. His eyes held his usual unfocused and half-lidded gaze. His mind was miles and miles away, over the clouds, still in the dream from earlier, trying to keep it all in his head, trying to understand it.

Gerald, oblivious to all of this, was talking on and on about the upcoming summer vacation, which was now only one week away.

He was far from the only one. Nearly every kid on the bus was all smiles and cheer over the coming summer holiday. There were dozens of loud conversations going on about the various activities that would be done over the next few months.

"Man, oh man, Arnold!" Gerald smiled happily. "Summer vacation is almost here, at last! Just one more week away from three whole months of summer fun! We are going to do it all this summer, good buddy! Three months of baseball, swimming, sun, and nothing but fun! Fishing, the arcade, no teachers, no homework, absolutely nothing to distract a kid from just being a kid!" He elbowed Arnold, grinning, "Right, Arnold?"

"Huh? What?" Arnold said, blinking and then turning around towards Gerald. His train of thought cut off. "Oh, um—yeah, right, Gerald. Nothing but fun and sun," he answered, not really showing as much enthusiasm as Gerald would have thought about this particular topic.

Gerald frowned slightly. "Arnold, what is it with you this morning, buddy? You look like you're a million miles away, or something."

Before Arnold could answer, the bus stopped and some more kids began to climb on. "Watch your back! Move it! Outta my way, geek-bait, I'm walking here!" Those shouted words came from a familiar voice that Arnold knew only too well.

Helga Pataki boarded the bus, shoving, elbowing, and pushing her way through some smaller kids. All of the happy conversations were momentarily interrupted by the sudden change in the mood. Helga wore her usual pink dress with white shirt and pink bow placed on top of her head between two blonde pigtails, her face was set in her usual scowl.

Arnold watched her walk close by, his eyes never leaving her. He still had the image of the nice, warm, caring Helga from his dream, the one with the soft blue eyes and girlish laughter in her voice. Now he was looking at the Helga he saw every day, the nine-year-old terror of PS 118, the one with the hair trigger temper, scowling demeanor, sarcastic tongue and ever-ready fists.

As Helga walked by their seat, she paused in her tracks when she noticed Arnold staring at her, a strange look on his face she couldn't quite read. She scowled, her blue eyes narrowed and angry under her unibrow and asked, "What are you looking at, football-head?" Arnold blinked, and then frowned. Helga called him a lot of nicknames, but "football-head" was among his least favorite ones.

Helga stomped off, Arnold watching her as she walked by, and sat down in her usual seat near the back of the bus next to her best friend and sidekick, Phoebe Heyerdahl.

"Ohayou Gozaimazu, Helga," Phoebe said cheerfully, greeting Helga in chipper Japanese.

Helga sighed, "Phoebe, no Japanese today, I'm really not in the mood."

"Oh, okay, English then," Phoebe said happily giving a thumbs up.

Helga looked up at the seat where Arnold sat with Gerald. "I wonder what's up with Hair-boy this morning."

Back over at their seats, Gerald looked over at Arnold. "What's gotten into you this morning, Arnold? Are you feeling okay, man?"

Arnold looked over at Gerald and said simply, "I'm fine, Gerald, I just—I had a really weird dream this morning."

"A dream? You mean that's why you're so distracted? What was it about?" Gerald asked, genuinely curious.

Arnold looked at Gerald and shook his head, "No way, you'd probably laugh at me if I told you."

"Arnold, when have I ever laughed at you over something silly like that?" Gerald asked seriously. Arnold just tilted his head toward Gerald and looked at him through half-lidded eyes. "Listen, man, you can tell me. I promise I'm not gonna laugh at you." Gerald said, raising his right hand and crossing over his heart with his left.

Arnold considered it a moment, and then said, "Okay, I'll tell you, but remember, you promised not to laugh"

"Trust me, Arnold," Gerald said to him nodding with a small smile on his face.

Arnold sighed and told Gerald, in almost a whisper, about his dream, about how Helga appeared in it, and how she acted nice and girlish, totally alien to the Helga he'd known his entire life . . .

"And that's when I woke up," Arnold said, finishing his story, looking down at his shoes. He looked up at over at his best friend and asked, "What do you think it means, Gerald?"

Gerald just sat there, looking at Arnold strangely, with sort-of a bemused look on his face.

"Um, Gerald?"

Then Gerald's chest suddenly began to heave, a small noise escaped through his nose and mouth, followed by some soft giggles, then full blown laughter. Arnold scowled at his best friend in annoyance. "I knew you'd laugh."

At this point, Gerald was doubled over in the seat with even more laughter. Arnold looked up and noticed that many of the small conversations on the bus had suddenly ceased as kids began to look at them strangely.

Great, now everyone on the bus is looking at us. Arnold thought to Arnold sat up, as if jolted by his last thought. Wait a minute? Everyone! He turned to look in the back and to his horror; Helga and Phoebe were indeed among those looking at them strangely. The last thing Arnold wanted was for Helga G. Pataki to know that he'd had a dream about her.

Then Arnold noticed Sid and Stinky walking over to where they sat.

"Hey Gerald, what's so gal-danged funny?" Stinky asked in his nasal country accent.

"Yeah, Gerald," Sid asked, curiously. "What's going on?"

Gerald finally got control of his laughing fit and looked over at Arnold, who shot him a very serious look that plainly said, Gerald, don't you dare!

"Oh, um—I was just telling Arnold about, uh—s-something my sister Timberly did this morning," Gerald lied quickly. "Yeah, that's it. That Timberly, what a ball of fire."

Both of the boys seemed utterly uninterested in the exploits of a four-year-old girl and went back to their seats near the front. All of the kids looking at them quickly went back to their previous conversations. Arnold looked back and noticed Helga still looking at him strangely. She scowled at him suddenly, and then quickly looked away.

Whew, that was too close, Arnold thought, as he turned back around and looked at his best friend annoyed.

"Um, sorry about that man, but you have to admit, that it's kind-of funny," Gerald said a little more quietly in case someone else was listening in. "I mean, you having a dream about Helga G. Pataki of all people, and she was actually nice." Gerald said that as if he couldn't quite envision that thought for himself.

"I know. It's just so weird," Arnold said, looking down again for a moment. "I just don't understand why I would have a dream like that about Helga. What do you think, Gerald?"

"Personally, I think you should lay off your grandma's cooking before you go to bed, it'll give you nightmares." Gerald joked.

"Gerald," Arnold said, stressing his name in annoyance. Then Arnold looked down and said, "Still, it wasn't a bad dream at all. Helga didn't act like she usually does; she was really—well, sort-of nice to be around."

"Well, Arnold, that should have tipped you off that the whole thing was a dream," Gerald said, humorously. Arnold actually smiled slightly at that, but as he thought about it, Arnold remembered that he knew he'd been dreaming before his unexpected encounter with Helga.

"It was just so strange, seeing her like that," Arnold said, almost to himself. "She seemed so happy and nice in my dream. Just so different, so . . ." Arnold trailed off as he remembered how soft and beautiful Helga looked in his dream, with her soft blonde hair flowing wildly in the wind and her large blue eyes looking at him with so much warmth. He shook his head and sighed, "I don't know, just so . . . different." Somehow the word "different" didn't seem quite adequate enough, but it was the best word Arnold's mind could come up with at the time.

Gerald looked at his friend strangely and shook his head. "Arnold, my man, I'm worried about you, buddy."

"What do you mean?" Arnold asked curiously.

"Well, I'd worry about any guy who had Helga G. Pataki as his dream girl," Gerald said, smiling.

Arnold suddenly felt very defensive, "Oh, come on Gerald, I never said she was my dream girl!"

Gerald smiled, as he continued to enjoy baiting his best friend, "Whatever you say, Arnold."

Arnold sighed, as if he was tired, knowing Gerald would probably tease him about this until the end of the school year and possibly for much of the summer. Still, even as the bus pulled up to the front of PS 118, his mind was still where his dream had been, up in the clouds, far, far away.

To Be Continued . . . .

"In love the paradox occurs that two beings become one and yet remain two." –Eric Fromm