In a world made of dreams, the clouds are cotton and the stars are candies, brightly twinkling in the eternal night. Once upon a time, a pebble wanted to be a butterfly but forgot how to be light and free. Instead, it rolled down hills, making music like a gentle wind.
The trees tell stories, secrets shared among leaves, giggling in the breeze. "We are all lost in our own woods," sighed a tired flower. "But don't worry," murmured a shadow, "the path will always find you."
There lives a giant under our beds, made of forgotten toys and dustbunnies' laughter. He collects mismatched socks and spins them into webs. "Beware the ticklish trap!", cry the little dust sprites as they dance on the moonbeam threads.
The sun rises, painting the world in hues of sleepy dreams. Rivers of milky tea flow gently, and rabbits play chess with raccoons. All is well in the land of night echoes. Explore further, dear traveler:
A frog sat upon a lily, singing tales of old rivers and juicy flies. "Croak croak," it went, a melody soaked in evening's dew. The moon listened closely, for the night's song had begun.