The Dream Bearer by Walter Dean Myers

Africans. That’s what I said.”
    â€œWhat did she say?”
    â€œClean the bathroom.”
    â€œShe let you come out, so that’s okay,” I said.
    â€œYou were talking to the old man?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWhat did he say?”
    â€œHe told me about a dream,” I said.
    â€œI think you take him too serious,” Loren said.
    â€œYeah, maybe.”
    Me and Loren walked along the park, and he was talking about the two of us going to the movies later in the week. We both liked the movies and picked four that we wanted to see.
    The whole time I was talking to Loren, I was thinking about Mr. Moses and the dream that got away from him. I had never lost a dream like that. I had never really had a dream that was so much a part of me as the old man’s dreams. But I was thinking that there were things that were getting away from me, and people I thought I knew who now weren’t so clear. Mr. Moses never asked me anything about myself, but I wondered what he knew.
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    â€œHe can live in the streets for all I care,” Reuben said.
    â€œWell, I don’t want him living in the streets,” Mom said. “Whatever he’s doing, he’s my son. And he’s going to be my son for as long as I am alive.”
    They were talking about Ty. He hadn’t been home for two days. The police hadn’t come to the house, so I thought he was okay, but I wasn’t sure. Reuben was acting like he didn’t care.
    I knew my brother, at least I had thought I knew him before he started acting so strange. Now every night I would wake up, turn on the light, and look at his empty bed. I wanted to hear him grunt and pull the cover over his head, the way he did sometimes, or ask me if I wascrazy waking him up in the middle of the night. I wanted him to be the old Ty, acting like he was tired of me hanging around him all the time. The thought of Ty living on the street gave me a nervous feeling inside. But it was almost as if I was the one who wasn’t home, instead of him.
    Mr. Moses had said that there were no homeless people, just people who weren’t in their homes. I liked that, but I didn’t know if it made a real difference. I thought Mr. Moses was not in his home, and now Ty wasn’t in his.
    I heard Mom talking on the phone to Ira. Ira played saxophone when he could find work, and sometimes he taught or drove a cab. Mom told Ira that Ty was running the streets and asked him to give her a call if he saw him.
    When Mom was happy, her voice sounded full, like it was coming toward you right from her mouth. But when she wasn’t happy, you had to lean forward to hear her. I had to lean forward a lot after Ty left.
    â€œHe’s got a good home, and he’s got a good life,” Reuben said. “If he don’t want to be in it, it’s because he’s just dumb.”
    Bum. Come. Dumb. Fum. Gum. Hum. I didn’t want to hear Reuben talk like that about Ty.
    â€œHe’s living in a fantasy, a dream world,” Reuben said.
    â€œReuben, the boy’s all right,” Mom said. “Ty is agood, decent young man.”
    I wondered if Ty was living in a dream world. And if he was living in a dream world, did he know about dreams, like Mr. Moses knew about them? I was beginning to think a lot about the old man. I thought that I could be thinking about him because I didn’t want to think about Ty or the little pieces of my life that seemed to go floating around the house. There was a warm feeling to Mr. Moses, a feeling that made me think he liked people a lot, maybe even liked me and Loren. It was good the way he talked to me and called me Mr. David. There were things I didn’t know about him. He was probably too old to know good, even if he wasn’t hundreds of years old the way he said he was. Him being that old didn’t make any sense, but it didn’t mess with me, not like Reuben’s not making sense tightened my