Tonight's Dream, Filed and Stamped

On the top floor of the Bureau of Whimsy, at the end of a corridor with carpet so thick that footsteps make no sound at all, is the Department of Dreams. The lamps there are always turned down low, and the kettle is always warm. At a long desk covered in jars sits Ms Juniper Nod, Dream Clerk, who files a dream for every child going to sleep tonight.

Tonight her helper was Forty-Two, a sheep. Most nights Forty-Two worked as a counting sheep, jumping over a fence for children who couldn't get to sleep, but this was his evening off and he liked to make himself useful. "I'm a professional," he told everyone. "I've been counted over a million times."

A request form came fluttering down the pipe and landed on the desk. "Dream Request, Form D-9," read Ms Nod, "for Jonah. Something with a boat in it, please, and a cake if possible, and nothing too exciting." "A boat and a cake," said Forty-Two happily. "I'll fetch the jars."

Dreams are made from very small amounts of things. Ms Nod took down a jar labelled Seaside, Calm, and measured out two spoonfuls of gentle waves. She added a pinch of Picnic Blanket, a sprinkle of Seagulls, Polite, and one whole Sunny Afternoon, which smelled of warm sand and sun cream. Forty-Two carried the jars back and forth very carefully in his teeth, because sheep do not have hands and it is harder than it looks.

For the boat, Ms Nod chose a small red one with a white sail and a cabin just big enough for a boy and a cake. For the cake, she chose lemon, with the icing a bit too thick on one side, which is how the best cakes are. Then she reached for the last jar, Breeze, Light, and Forty-Two reached for it at exactly the same time.

The jar wobbled, and tipped, and a whole puff of something spilled across the desk. It was not Breeze, Light. It was Bounce, Extra. At once the waves began to bounce, and the boat began to bounce, and the cake bounced right off its plate and landed on the sail.

Even the seagulls, who had been so polite, shouted "Wheee" and did loop-the-loops. "Oh dear," said Forty-Two. "That's a lot of bounce for a bedtime."

Ms Nod did not panic. Dream Clerks never panic. She opened the bottom drawer, the one marked Emergencies, Mild, and took out a jar of Slow Sunday. She added one spoonful, and the waves stopped bouncing and began to roll. She added another, and the little boat rocked from side to side, gently, like a cradle.

The cake climbed back onto its plate. The seagulls settled on the mast and tucked their heads under their wings. "Perfect," said Ms Nod. "A boat that rocks, a cake that stays put, and one small bounce left over, just for fun." She held the dream up to her ear, and it sounded like water lapping and somebody humming.

Every dream must be stamped before it leaves the Department. Ms Nod stamped this one with the Gentle stamp and the Home By Morning stamp, very softly. Then she folded the dream in half, and in half again, until it was a small paper boat, and set it on the Drowsy Canal that runs along the corridor wall.

The little dream boat floated away down the canal, through the walls of the Bureau and out over the rooftops, into the house where Jonah was lying in bed with his eyes beginning to close. It tucked itself under his pillow and waited, very patiently, the way dreams do, until he was properly asleep.

Back on the top floor, Ms Nod put the lids back on her jars, one by one. Forty-Two lay down on the thick carpet beside her desk. He was not on duty, but out of habit he counted himself, very slowly, one sheep, and then he was asleep as well.

And under Jonah's pillow, the dream unfolded its sail, rocked once, rocked twice, and quietly began.