Sleepy tree

⏱ ~3 min reading

Somewhere far, far away, over a hill, where the evening mist lies on the grass like a soft woolen shawl, there is a quiet, quiet garden. In that garden grows a tree. Quite unusual.

During the day it looks like all trees. The trunk is warm, rough. The branches are wide, swaying slowly, as if thinking about something of their own. The leaves are green and simple. If you pass by it in the morning, you might not even notice that it is special.

But at night… oh, at night.

When the moon rises over the garden and the stars light up one by one, like tiny candles on a celestial bench, the tree begins to glow softly. At first, barely, like a spark under the ashes. Then a little brighter. And then each leaf becomes like a drop of silver light.

Because it is a Dream Tree. And dreams grow on it.

Each leaf is a separate story. On one, a little kitten sleeps in a basket. On another, a balloon flies over a green field. On the third, a gentle bear sits and eats honey from a wooden spoon. Each dream is for one little heart.

When a child in a distant hut, in a distant city, in a distant village closes his eyes and begins to gradually fall asleep, a single leaf falls quietly from the Sleepy Tree. He is not afraid to fall. The tree itself lets him go — gently, like a mother letting her child go to kindergarten for the first time.

A sleeping leaf gently circles in the air. It is not in a hurry. It does not need to hurry. It floats over the forest, over the warm roofs of houses, over the silver river in which fish sleep. The breeze carries it carefully, as if on children's palms.

And here is your window.

The little leaf-sleep slips gently into the crack, quieter than a feather. It makes three circles over your room—one, two, three—as if looking for you. And then it lands on your pillow. Right next to your cheek.

And sleep begins. Gentle, warm, like the warmth of milk poured by a mother.

You sleep and know nothing. You only see flowers blooming in your dream, you flying over the sea, a big, kind dog licking your nose. You smile in your dream. Sometimes you even laugh—quietly, with the very corner of your lips.

And in the morning, when the sun gently touches your cheek and calls you to wake up, the sleeping leaf has already disappeared. It flies out the window, returns to the garden, quietly lies down on the grass at the roots of the Sleepy Tree - and there dissolves in the dew.

Maybe you've ever noticed little dewdrops on the grass in the morning? As round as glass beads? This is a reminder of a dream that has done its job. It returns to the earth. And the earth passes it on to the roots of the Dream Tree. And a new leaf grows on it. A new dream. For another little heart.

So dreams go in a circle. Every child, having seen a good dream, gives it to someone else - the next night. Because in the dream you smiled. And a smile is a small seed of kindness. And it grows further.

That's why mom always says, "Go to sleep, honey. Sleep is waiting for you."«

She knows. She too, as a little girl, once saw a silent leaf from the Sleepy Tree flying towards her window.

And now, as you lie in your crib, warm and cozy under the blanket, listen. Somewhere over there, far over the hill, a tree is softly shining. And one leaf has already broken off and is flying. Straight to you.

Close your eyes. He's already close. He's already over the roof. He's already at the window.

Here… it's here. On your pillow.

Good night, little one.

Good night.