In a small, warm room, three little boys snuggled in their beds. Tim was almost three. Tom was almost three. Ted was almost three. The night-light was soft and golden. Their blankets were cozy and kind.
A tiny dream peeked out from under a pillow. It looked like a puffy cloud in tiny socks. It wiggled. It jiggled. It popped up like a bubble and began to float away.
“Oh!” said Tim. “Please, little dream, come to my pillow.”
“Whee!” squeaked the dream, like a giggle in the air.
Tom laughed. “Excuse me, dream,” he said. “We need you for sleeping.”
The dream did a twirl. It sat on the lampshade like a hat. It hopped to a slipper like a boat. It rode a toy car and said, “Beep-beep!” The boys laughed and clapped, but they kept their voices small and gentle.
“Let's take turns,” said Ted. “We can share. We can be kind.”
Tim reached up with his teddy. “Please, little dream.” The dream bounced off the teddy's soft nose. Boop.
Tom tried a sock like a rope. “Please, little dream.” The sock went whoosh, very small and slow. The dream floated past, as calm as a feather.
Ted made a tiny breeze with his hand. “Excuse me, dream.” The dream drifted sideways and sat on the curtain. It kicked its tiny sock feet. Wiggle, wiggle.
The boys looked at each other. Tim said, “Your idea was good.” Tom said, “Your idea was good.” Ted said, “All our ideas were good.” They smiled. They were respectful and sweet.
“Maybe the dream likes quiet,” said Tim.
“Maybe the dream likes gentle,” said Tom.
“Maybe the dream likes waiting,” said Ted.
So they sat very still. They made room in the air with open hands. They made room in their beds with soft pillows. They whispered together, slow and kind.
“Little dream, little dream, please come here.
We will be gentle. We will be near.
Little dream, little dream, we will share.
There is space for you. Everywhere.”
The dream listened. It wiggled one tiny sock. It floated down, slow as syrup. It touched Tim's hand. It touched Tom's cheek. It touched Ted's nose. Boop, boop, boop.
“We will share,” said Tim.
“We will be fair,” said Tom.
“We will take turns,” said Ted.
The dream smiled, if a dream can smile. It puffed into three soft pieces, like three little dandelion seeds. One piece drifted to Tim's pillow. One piece drifted to Tom's pillow. One piece drifted to Ted's pillow.
Tim's dream hummed of kittens who said, “Please.” Tom's dream sang of pancakes who said, “Thank you.” Ted's dream danced with a friendly dinosaur who whispered, “After you.”
The room grew quiet and calm, like a warm cup of milk. Breaths got slow. Blinks got long. The words got soft, and the air felt safe, and everything was gentle and good and close.
“Good night, little dream,” the boys whispered.
And then they all made one big, sweet, sleepy yawn: yaaawn.
