Princess Talia was supposed to be asleep. But through her tower window she saw something impossible: at the far edge of the castle grounds, past the hedges shaped like swans, a garden was glowing.
She tiptoed down the spiral stairs in her slippers, across the dewy lawn, and stopped at a little silver gate she had never seen before. On the gate hung a sign, written in letters that shimmered like water: The Moon Garden — open only while the moon is watching.
Inside, everything was upside-down from daytime. The flowers were closed tight in the sunniest spots, but wherever moonlight pooled on the ground, huge white blossoms opened like slow fireworks. Moths drifted between them like tiny paper lanterns.
In the middle of the garden stood an old gardener with a watering can that poured out starlight instead of water.
“Ah,” he said, not surprised at all. “The moonflowers were hoping someone kind would come. We have a small problem tonight.”
He led Talia to the biggest blossom of all. Curled inside it, like a kitten in a basket, was a small silvery wisp of light. It flickered nervously.
“That,” said the gardener, “is a dream. Every night, the moonflowers grow the dreams, and the night wind carries them to sleeping children. But this little dream is lost. It cannot remember which child it belongs to.”
Talia leaned close. The dream showed her flickery pictures: a room with a crooked bookshelf, a stuffed rabbit with one button eye, a window with three paper stars taped to the glass.
“I know that window!” Talia gasped. “That’s Pip, the baker’s son! His window looks over the courtyard — I’ve seen those paper stars!”
The dream glowed brighter, and spun in a happy little circle.
“Then you must carry it,” said the gardener, “gently, like a candle flame.”
Talia cupped the dream in her hands. It was warm as fresh bread. She walked it across the sleeping courtyard, past the fountain talking quietly to itself, and lifted it up toward Pip’s window. The dream slipped through the gap under the shutter like a ribbon of moonlight — and a moment later, Talia heard Pip sigh happily in his sleep.
When she returned, the gardener was smiling. “The moon is going to bed soon,” he said, “and so should princesses. But because you helped, the garden will grow you a dream tonight, too — an extra-good one.”
Talia yawned all the way up the spiral stairs. She climbed into her big soft bed, and just as her eyes closed, she felt something warm as fresh bread settle softly beside her pillow.
That night she dreamed of a garden of white flowers, and a thousand little lights sailing out over the rooftops — one warm dream for every sleeping child, and every single one of them finding its way home.
🌙 The End 🌙
Sweet dreams, little one.
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