"A dream is a wish your heart makes
When you're fast asleep"
Each night the moon yawns and little moon sprites fall down to earth, sliding down moon beams.They stretch and shake glittering moon dust from their hair.Then they fly around the sleeping world, searching for the dream giants. The dream giants, a nomadic tribe of magical creatures are hard to find. But usually they can be tracked by the large craters and rivers they create as they walk. Sometimes they are even mistaken for mountains. The moon sprites find the dream giants each night and barter for a bag of dreams weaved from the hopes and memories of humans, alive and passed. They love the moon lit hair of the moon sprites and so the moon sprites trade purses,cloth and clothing weaved from their own hair for a bag of the dream giant's best dreams.
The strongest moon sprite will lift the bag on his back and off they will fly to the land of the Astens, the ancestors of a union between an elf and tree nymph. The Astens take the bag of dreams and open the bag a little bit. A wayward dream usually flies out when they do..a dream that is not strong enough by itself because it has not had proper wings weaved for it yet. So the dream flies high into the sky and begins to burn till it falls to the Earth. And that dear child, is what we call a shooting star.
They open the bag bit by bit and gently pluck the dreams out one by own. They hand the dreams out among their families; their children and fathers and mothers and elders. And every night the Astens weave little wings on each of the dreams. The wings the children weave are not as strong, but are bright and beautiful. The teenagers weave wings that are fiery and burning. The elders weave wings that are full of wisdom and sadness. The mothers and fathers weave wings that are strong and tender, unsure of themselves, yet strong.
The moon sprites fly each weaved dream into the tiptop of the clouds and show the dreams the world. They point out Africa, Japan, America, China, England. They point everything, from the salty oceans with mermaids lurking in its depths to thatched huts with barefooted children.
The North Wind leads her wind children, East,West and South to the clouds. They pick up the young new dreams into their strong arms and gently blow them down to Earth. The dreams are young and must learn to use their wings. Sometimes they do not make it and crash and burn on their way down. The moon sprites will pick up these broken and shattered dreams and turn them into seeds. From these seeds will grow little flowers. Because sometimes even broken dreams are beautiful.
The ones that make it will find the sleeping world and fly into their rooms. They aloft on sleeping children, homeless men, grandmas and grandpas..everyone. They weave themselves into our hair, hearts and twinkle softly when we sleep. And sometimes if you looked hard enough at someone's face, you can see a little dream in their eyes or dimples or in their curve of their lips or red of their cheeks. And that my dearest, is where dreams come from.
"In dreams you lose your heartaches
Whatever you wish for, you keep
Have faith in your dreams and someday
Your rainbow will come smiling through"
No matter how your heart is grieving
If you keep on believing
the dream that you wish will come true"