The Stardust Factory

On the far side of the moon, where nobody can see, there is a factory. The Stardust Factory. Tiny workers work there; in nightcaps and slippers, yawning as they go.

The factory's job is this: every night, to prepare a packet of dream dust for every child in the world.

The dust is gathered from shooting stars. When a star shoots across the sky, the workers run and sweep up its dust. They fill buckets with it. The buckets move along a belt. A machine sorts the dust into colors: blue dust for sea dreams, green dust for forest dreams, yellow dust for flying dreams, pink dust for sweet dreams. And there is silver dust too; that is for the dreams you don't remember in the morning but that make you smile.

Then the dust is put into little pouches. On each pouch a name is written. Your name is there too; be sure of it.

Toward midnight the pouches go out for delivery. Moonlight is like a slide; the pouches slide and slide, slip in through the windows and settle on the pillows. They make no sound at all.

When you fall asleep, the pouch opens. The dust settles on your hair and your eyelashes. And the dream begins.

But there is one condition: the dust only works on those whose eyes are closed. If your eyes are open, the pouch waits. It waits and waits... The workers get worried: "Still not asleep?"

Come on, don't upset them. Close your eyes. The pouch is about to open. What color tonight? Maybe blue. Maybe yellow. Maybe silver.

Sweet dreams.