On the Moonbeam – A Journey Through Sleeptime

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Jonas lay quietly in his bed. The day had long since passed, and his room was filled with that special darkness that conceals more than it hides. The clock ticked softly, the shadows rested gently on the shelves, and outside in the sky, the moon hung—as bright as if someone had freshly polished it. A single ray fell through the window, slid across the pillow, danced across the ceiling, and finally rested on Jonas's chest. It was warm, like a secret thought that suddenly glows. Jonas opened his eyes. And then he heard it—a whisper in the light: "The night calls you, Jonas. Come, it's time." Before he could answer, the bed rose. Not with a crash or a rumble—no. It was as if it were floating. The beam of light widened, shimmering silver, flecked with small star fragments, and the bed slid silently out through the open window. Past the gutter, past the old owl, who opened its eyes briefly but then continued dreaming. Upward, ever upward, through the sleeping air, past roofs and chimneys, higher than the clouds, until the world was just a faint shimmer. Halfway between heaven and eternity, Jonas met him: a small gentleman in a tails coat, top hat, and sparkling star beard. He stood on an asteroid that slowly circled and saluted: "Professor Glimmerlight, responsible for heavenly paths and wandering dreams. Glad you made it!" Jonas giggled and let the professor lift him onto the asteroid. Together they rode on a celestial carousel, past moth ballets, glass chimes, and a planetary orchestra that played only for dreamers. "The moon has a wishing tree," the professor explained. "And sometimes, very rarely, a child is invited to bring a wish there." The Wishing Tree stood on the far side of the moon. Its branches bore lights instead of leaves, and in each light rested a sleeping thought. Jonas approached. A wish beat in his chest, tender and excited. He whispered it to the tree—softly, so it wouldn't break. The tree nodded. A light sprang up, spun, became a spark, and flew away—out into the night. Jonas watched the light until it disappeared. Then he grew tired again. The professor smiled and waved. "Time to return. The wish now knows its way." Jonas rode home on the moonbeam. The bed slid back into the room, sank onto the mattress, the beam disappeared. And when he awoke the next morning, a tiny light lay on his bedspread. Warm. Softly pulsing. And full of memory.