Planet with pink sky

⏱ ~5 min reading

Somewhere far, far away, beyond our Moon, beyond the tails of comets, beyond the silent rings of Saturn, in the deep velvet of the Universe, a small planet spins. No one has marked it on any map. But if you saw it from afar, you would immediately recognize it - because there is only one like it.

The sky above that planet is pink. Not pastel or bright, but exactly the kind that your mother has on her cheek when she smiles at you in the morning. The clouds float there, round and soft, like strawberry cotton. And when a light breeze blows, you can hear a soft bell in the sky - as if someone in the distance is playing a harp made of petals.

There are no ordinary houses on that planet. Instead, shells grow. Large, pearly, twisted into a spiral, like a snail's hut. Inside each shell is a small room with soft pillows, a pearl lamp on the wall, and a window from which you can see the star garden. When its owner falls asleep in the shell, the shell gently lulls him to sleep with the whispers of the distant sea.

And the sun above the planet is like candy. It is yellow-pink, transparent at the edges, and smells not of fire at all, but of caramel and vanilla milk. Pieces of the sun sometimes fall to the ground by themselves - soft, warm, like lollipops from a pastry shop window. Whoever wants one, picks up such a piece and puts it under their tongue. It tastes like honey cake with linden.

The birds there are very special. They have long, long antennae, like a bumblebee, and feathers the color of the morning dawn. They don't sing like our birds, but they talk. Quietly, gently, as if they were reading poetry. And every word they say is about something good.

"It will be clear today," says one.

"The sky smells amazing today," says another.

"A guest is flying in to visit us today," says the third one, rustling his mustache.

No rocket has reached there. Neither ours nor someone else's, neither small nor large. Real rockets do not reach that planet. They fly past without noticing. Because the planet with the pink sky is not for metal. It is for something else.

You can only get there in a dream.

Once upon a time, a little girl named Lina was lying in her crib. Outside the window was our usual evening, blue-blue, with a small moon and a lantern near the neighbor's house. Mom covered Lina with a blanket with bunnies and sat down next to her.

"Tell me about something magical," Lina asked.

Mom smiled and ran her finger through her bangs.

"Close your eyes, my sweetie. And imagine - somewhere in the universe there is a planet with a pink sky. The clouds there are like strawberry cotton. The birds have long antennae, shells grow instead of houses, and the sun is the color of candy.".

“Can I go there?” Lina whispered, without opening her eyes.

"You can," Mom said gently. "Only in dreams. Real rockets don't fly there. But dreams do.".

Lina snorted. Her breathing became even, warm. The blanket with the bunnies rose and fell like a small soft sea.

And then - a miracle. Somewhere inside Linch's head, a tiny window opened. And she saw. First, a distant pink horizon. Then - a small garden with shells. Then - a bird with a mustache, which sat on her shoulder and whispered:

"Hello, Lino. We've been waiting for you.".

Lina laughed in her sleep. Her cheeks turned pink.

“Can we…go for a walk?” she asked.

"You can, you can," the bird nodded. "Take my paw. And don't be afraid. We're gentle here.".

They walked along a path of pearly sand. Lina touched a petal cloud—it was warm, like her mother's palm. She looked into one of the shells—there was a small animal sleeping, like a cat, but with wings. She put her palm up—and a piece of candy sun landed on it, warm, transparent, honey-colored. Lina carefully placed it under her tongue. Her mouth felt sweet, sweet, like vanilla cream.

"You can come back whenever you want," said the bird. "Just close your eyes and think of us. We are here.".

“Are you… real?” Lina asked.

"We are more real than you think," the bird smiled with its mustache. "Only a little more delicate than your world. Everything in yours is hard, ringing, loud. And in ours it is soft, quiet, pink. But we are real. We just live differently.".

Lina nodded, as she knew how to nod in her sleep—slowly, softly.

And then morning came. Our usual sun peeked through the window—yellow, warm, but not candy-like. Lina opened her eyes and felt something strange. A sweet taste remained in her mouth, at the very tip of her tongue. Like caramel. Even though she hadn't eaten anything at night.

Lina smiled softly.

“They shared it with me,” she whispered. “That’s how dream magic works.”.

She lay there a little longer and listened to her mother preparing breakfast in the kitchen, to the milk sizzling on the stove, to the clock ticking in the living room. Everything was as usual. And at the same time, a little different. Because now Lina knew: somewhere out there, in the soft velvet distance, there was a planet with a pink sky. And they were waiting for her there.

From that day on, whenever Lina felt uncomfortable—in kindergarten, in a tearful moment, on a rainy day—she would close her eyes and whisper:

— Pink sky, I remember you.

And somewhere far, far away, on a small shell planet, a bird with long antennae raised its head and answered:

"And we remember you, Lina. We are always here.".

So close your eyes, little ones. Maybe today is your turn. And if in the morning your tongue tastes sweet, sweet, know that we have shared it with you. Dreams are more real than we think.