“I don’t want to sleep.”
Din lay on his side in bed, staring at the ceiling. His mother had turned off the lights and gone. The house was quiet. But Din was still wide awake, his mind busy with a game he hadn’t finished, a comic book he’d left half-read, and a snack he wanted but his mother said could wait until tomorrow.
“Why do I even have to sleep?” Din muttered to the dark room.
“Because the world needs you to rest.”
The voice was soft and gentle. Din sat up and looked around. No one was there. But moonlight was filtering through the thin curtains, falling across the floor in a sheet of silver.
“Who’s there?” Din asked.
“Me,” the moonlight answered. “I speak to every child who can’t fall asleep.”
Din sat up properly and looked toward the window. “Can the moon really talk?”
“I do everything people overlook,” the moon said. “Would you like to hear some stories? Stories of children all over the world who are dreaming right now, at this very moment.”
Din hesitated - then nodded and lay back down, his head on his pillow.
“Right now, in the Himalayan mountains,” the moon began, “a girl named Tenzin is sleeping inside a thick wool tent. Outside, snow is falling and the wind is strong. But inside it’s warm - she’s curled up with her mother and little brother, and she’s dreaming about the yak she has raised since it was a tiny calf.”
Din closed his eyes and imagined it. Snow. A warm tent. A yak wandering through a dream.
“In the Sahara Desert in Africa,” the moon continued, “a boy named Ahmad is lying on a flat stone rooftop under the open sky. He watches the stars every night before he falls asleep - his father has taught him the name of every one. Tonight he fell asleep dreaming of flying among them, his hand actually touching the stars.”
“Would the stars be hot?” Din murmured, his voice already softer.
“He said they felt warm - like gentle sunlight,” the moon answered. “And in the Amazon rainforest in Brazil, a girl named Yara is sleeping in a wooden house deep in the forest. Frogs and insects are calling all around her, but she’s used to it and sleeping soundly. She’s dreaming of a giant tree whose roots are bigger than she is, and in the dream she climbs all the way to the top and can see the whole forest spread out below her…”
Din felt his body growing heavier. His eyelids were drifting.
“And in Japan…” the moon went on, its voice growing quieter, “a boy named Sota is sleeping in a room with thin paper screens for walls. He had just written his very first haiku poem today, and he fell asleep feeling proud. He’s dreaming of cherry blossoms falling - soft pink petals landing on his cheeks, light as air…”
Din pictured it. Pink petals drifting slowly down.
”…And in Norway, a girl named Ingrid is sleeping under a thick feather duvet. Outside the sky is still bright because it’s summer and the sun barely sets - but she’s already fast asleep, dreaming of deep blue fjords and a whale that rises from the water to say hello…”
The moon’s voice grew softer and softer, like music slowly fading into the air.
Din felt himself floating somewhere warm and comfortable and quiet. The children passed through his mind one by one. The girl with the yak. The boy flying among stars. The girl at the top of the great tree. The boy and his cherry blossoms. The girl and her whale.
All of them sleeping right now.
And in the world of dreams, every one of them was exactly where they wanted to be.
Din’s eyes closed completely.
“What will Din dream about?” the moon asked, so quietly it was barely a sound.
But Din didn’t answer.
He was already asleep.
With a small smile on his face.
Sleep well.
