The Pillowcase Parade
Nora was almost asleep when her pillow made a tiny crinkly sound.
It was not a loud sound, and it was not a worrying sound. It was the sort of sound a moonbeam might make if it tiptoed across paper.
Nora opened one eye.
Her room was soft and silver in the night-light glow. The curtains swayed a little, and her slippers sat side by side like two sleepy boats.
The crinkly sound came again.
Nora sat up and hugged her pillow. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
The pillow, of course, did not answer.
Nora pulled off the pillowcase to give it a shake, because sometimes crumbs from bedtime toast or tiny bits of lint hid in the corners.
She shook it once.
She shook it twice.
On the third shake, something tumbled out and landed on her blanket with a very small thump.
Then something else tumbled out.
Then a whole line of something elses.
Nora blinked.
Across her bed marched a parade of animals no bigger than buttons.
There was a mouse with a thimble drum, a rabbit carrying a dandelion puff like a banner, a turtle with a shiny blue bead on his shell, and a duckling wearing a ribbon for a scarf.
Behind them came a hedgehog, a frog, a kitten, a lamb, and a squirrel pulling a wagon made from half a walnut shell.
They marched in a neat little line over Nora’s quilt, lifting their tiny feet high.
“Left, right, snuggle tight,” squeaked the mouse, tapping the thimble drum.
“Left, right, soft goodnight,” whispered the rabbit, waving the dandelion puff.
Nora stared with her mouth open.
The turtle noticed her first. He took off his bead like a hat and bowed.
“Good evening, Nora,” he said in a voice as slow and cozy as warm milk. “We hope we did not wake you too much.”
“You came out of my pillowcase,” Nora whispered.
“Yes,” said the duckling. “We live in the little fold at the very bottom, past the seam and around the corner.”
“It is a lovely place,” said the lamb. “Very fluffy.”
Nora looked into the pillowcase. It seemed perfectly ordinary, with stripes and a small patch shaped like a star.
“Are you having a parade?” she asked.
The squirrel stopped pulling the walnut wagon and sighed. “We were supposed to be.”
The hedgehog nodded. “But our parade has lost its yawn.”
Nora tilted her head. “Your yawn?”
“The yawn that helps everyone sleep,” said the kitten, blinking very slowly. “It floats at the end of the Pillowcase Parade every night.”
“It is round and soft and silvery,” said the frog. “Like a bubble made of bedtime.”
“And when it reaches us,” said the duckling, “we all yawn together and drift into dreams.”
The mouse tapped the drum once, very gently. “But tonight the yawn has wandered off.”
Nora felt a yawn tickle the back of her own mouth, but it did not come out. It stayed hidden, like a shy fish in a pond.
“Can I help you find it?” she asked.
All the button-sized animals looked up at her with bright, hopeful eyes.
“That would be most kind,” said the turtle. “You are very tall, and your bed is very wide.”
Nora smiled. “I’ll be careful.”
She set her pillow at the head of the bed like a mountain and folded back her blanket just a little. The animals gathered in a small circle beside her knee.
“We must search gently,” said the lamb. “Yawns do not like rushing.”
“Or shouting,” said the kitten.
“Or itchy socks,” added the hedgehog.
Nora nodded solemnly. “Gentle searching. No shouting. Watch out for socks.”
The parade began again.
The mouse marched first with his soft thimble drum. The rabbit followed, holding the dandelion puff high.
Nora walked her fingers beside them, making a little path in the blanket.
They crossed the Blue Quilt Hills, which were made from the bumps and folds in Nora’s blanket.
The turtle climbed slowly up one soft hill and slid down the other side on his shell. “A pleasant slope,” he said.
The duckling waddled after him, leaving no footprints at all.
“Yawn?” called Nora in the quietest voice she could make. “Are you here?”
Only a cottony hush answered.
They searched beneath the corner of the blanket where Nora liked to tuck her feet. The frog peeked under it and found a lost hair ribbon, three tiny fuzz balls, and a speck of sparkle from Nora’s art project.
“No yawn,” he said, putting the sparkle carefully in the walnut wagon.
“Sometimes useful things are found while looking for other things,” said the squirrel.
Next they came to the Sock Tunnels.
Nora’s clean socks had fallen from the laundry basket earlier and were lying in a soft pile near the end of the bed. To the animals, each sock was a long, cozy tunnel.
The hedgehog sniffed the opening of a pink sock with white dots. “This one smells like lavender soap.”
“A good tunnel,” said the kitten.
The rabbit lowered the dandelion banner and crept inside.
“Hello?” she whispered into the sock. “Dear lost yawn, are you napping in here?”
Her voice came back even softer. “In here… in here…”
The duckling giggled. “The sock is answering.”
The animals explored the sock tunnels one by one.
In the green sock, they found a crumb shaped like a crescent moon.
In the yellow sock, they found nothing but warmth.
In the blue sock, they found Nora’s missing marble, which gleamed like a tiny planet.
Nora put the marble on her bedside table so it would not roll away again.
Still, there was no yawn.
The parade grew a little slower.
The mouse’s drum went tap… tap… tap, with long rests between.
Nora’s eyelids felt heavier, but she kept them open because she had promised to help.
“Where else could the yawn be?” she asked.
The lamb looked toward the pillow. “Perhaps near the Cloud Cliffs.”
Nora followed her gaze.
The pillow, now without its pillowcase, sat plump and white. Its edges rose in soft ridges, and a loose feather peeked from one corner.
The animals marched toward it, climbing carefully over the sheet.
Nora cupped her hands around them, not touching, just guarding them from the breeze made by the curtains.
At the pillow, the kitten leaped lightly onto the lower edge. The rabbit helped the turtle up by offering the dandelion stem.
“Thank you,” said the turtle. “I am swift in my heart.”
The Cloud Cliffs were soft and high, but the animals were brave in the gentlest way.
They climbed and rested, climbed and rested, until they reached the top of the pillow.
From there, Nora could see all of her bed spread below them: the blanket hills, the sock tunnels, the walnut wagon, and the little parade line shining in the night-light.
“It is very beautiful,” said the duckling.
“It is home,” said the mouse.
The squirrel shaded his eyes with one paw. “I see something.”
Everyone turned.
Near the pillow corner, where the loose feather poked out, a shimmer wobbled in the air.
It was small and round and silvery, just as the animals had said. It floated above the feather like a soap bubble that had learned how to be sleepy.
“There it is,” whispered Nora.
“The yawn,” breathed the lamb.
The yawn bobbed once.
Then it drifted away from them, not fast, but dreamily, as if it had forgotten where it meant to go.
“Oh dear,” said the frog. “It is sleepwalking.”
“Can yawns sleepwalk?” asked Nora.
“They can sleepfloat,” said the turtle.
The feather beneath the yawn gave a tiny wiggle.
Nora leaned closer and blew the softest breath she could blow. It was not enough to push the yawn roughly, only enough to invite it.
The feather lifted.
Up it floated, carrying the silvery yawn on its tip.
The animals watched, silent and wide-eyed.
The feather sailed over the pillow, above the kitten’s ears, past the rabbit’s banner, and down toward the waiting walnut wagon.
The squirrel quickly spread a square of handkerchief cloth inside the wagon.
The feather settled there as gently as a sigh.
The yawn glowed.
Then it opened, not like a mouth, but like a tiny silver flower.
A warm, drowsy feeling poured over the bed.
The mouse yawned first. “Ahhh,” he squeaked, and dropped his drumstick onto the quilt.
The rabbit yawned next, her nose twitching.
Then the turtle yawned so slowly that everyone politely waited for him to finish.
The duckling yawned and tucked her beak into her ribbon scarf.
The hedgehog yawned and curled into a small, round button shape.
The frog yawned with a tiny peep.
The kitten yawned and stretched her paws as far as they would go.
The lamb yawned and looked like a little puff of cloud.
At last, the yawn floated from the wagon toward Nora.
It hovered beside her cheek, cool and soft as moonlight.
Nora tried to say, “I’m glad we found you,” but the yawn slipped kindly into her mouth.
“Aaaahhh,” she yawned.
It was the biggest, softest, sleepiest yawn of the whole night.
The animals clapped very quietly.
“The Pillowcase Parade is complete,” said the turtle.
“Thank you, Nora,” whispered the lamb.
“Will you come back tomorrow?” Nora asked, though her eyes were almost closed.
“If the pillowcase needs shaking,” said the mouse.
“And if the moon is gentle,” said the rabbit.
“And if everyone remembers to leave room for dreams,” said the kitten.
The animals formed their parade line once more.
The squirrel pulled the walnut wagon with the feather and the resting yawn inside. The rabbit held the dandelion puff low, like a lantern at bedtime.
“Left, right, snuggle tight,” whispered the mouse, his drum now tucked under one arm.
“Left, right, soft goodnight,” murmured the parade.
One by one, the button-sized animals marched back into Nora’s pillowcase.
The turtle bowed at the seam.
The duckling waved her wing.
The lamb smiled the smallest smile.
Then the last whisker, tail, and paw disappeared into the folded corner at the bottom.
Nora slipped the pillowcase back over her pillow.
She patted it once.
The pillow felt extra soft, as if it were full of tiny dreams lining up in a row.
Outside, the curtains swayed.
Inside, the room was peaceful.
Nora nestled under her blanket and placed her cheek on the pillow.
From very far away, or perhaps from very near, she heard one last whisper.
“Goodnight, Nora.”
“Goodnight, parade,” she whispered back.
Then Nora slept.
In her dream, she walked beside a tiny marching band across rolling blanket hills under a sky made of feathers.
And at the end of the parade floated a silver yawn, leading everyone gently home.
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