For most of Panda’s life, the little black-and-white bear indeed also viewed the world in black-and-white. In the early years, Panda worried that having such a colorless perspective was in fact restricting Panda from a true representation of reality, but the often perplexed bear resolved that it would be harder to be confused this way.
For example, on a childhood school trip to the planetarium when everyone ran into the alley behind the parking lot Panda was the first to identify an albino-panda-snake slithering over the harsh earth.
“Albino-panda-snake!” Panda shrieked and scared it away, while the other children were still staring, befuddled and slow, at the dangerous creature.
There were many times in the little bear’s life when the quick, precise naming of things helped save school children and later adult colleagues from harm:
Take threats like the rabid teeth of the dog-panda, or the fierce trampling hooves of the horse-panda, or the deadly hip-fattening properties of the panda-cookie:
Or perhaps the best case of how beautiful and terribly dramatic living in a black-and-white world can be is witnessed in the movie Gaslight, which Panda very much adores and often watches before bed so that Ingrid Bergman and Angela Lansbury may enter the chilly bamboo fields of Panda’s dreams wearing telltale dresses and fancy gloves.
But alas, Panda cannot deny that a sad gnawing feeling creeps up from time to time.
Am I not seeing the full spectrum of the rainbow, which perhaps may be the world’s greatest wonder? Panda wrestles with this crisis more than you know.
Everyone was always telling Panda rainbows are not that special, but Panda knows this is not true: For why wish upon one, then? Why not just wish upon a glass of milk or a tin full of tar?
The other evening, Panda pondered these very questions as the sky darkened and the stars grew brighter and sleep drew Panda’s paw to Panda’s side.
And indeed it was during a dream of a rainbow when first appeared Nite Lemon, the neon llama, who squeezed out between the yellow and green arches.
“It’s Nite Lemon, my trusty nightlight,” Panda thought silently in his dream. “Except he is so big and strange.”
Nite Lemon only nodded.
And just then the electrifying yellow and green stripes of Nite Lemon’s sweater made Panda’s eyes pinch into stars.
For what is this? Color? Born out of a wondrous rainbow? Why and for how long?
Panda was so excited.
What does it mean, Panda thought, to suddenly see color? Is it only for beauty’s sake, or will it help answer larger questions like…is Panda truly in love with Vincent D’Onofrio? And if Panda were dating Vincent D’Onofrio but happened to trip onto Steve Buscemi’s lap at a party, would the little bear suddenly have a change of heart? And other questions: Panda currently disapproves of spring, for attached to the season of flower-bloomings are horrid allergy attacks and bee stings, and furthermore, the temperature is pleasant only some of the time, and is rainy and cold for the remaining of the time (but you never know when). Panda hates uncertainty.
And pertaining to uncertainty, will color now confuse Panda? Will the little bear fail at naming things?
Nite Lemon said he did not know, but in reality, Nite Lemon did know.
“Might you please name me this, Sir?” the neon llama said, and clicked his hooves, and up came this picture.
“Albino-panda snake!” said, Panda.
“Horse-Panda!”
Whew.
By the end of the dream Panda and Nite Lemon were sharing a panda-cookie.
When Panda woke up, Panda was relieved to find the llama securely plugged into the wall.
Panda wiped a drop of sweat off a thick brow.
The little bear was overjoyed, for although Panda was no longer dreaming there were rainbows everywhere.















