In her dream, Lilly walked through the shadow-filled forest by the light of the big, silver moon. The trees, twisted and ominous, seemed to reach out at her with gnarled, finger-like limbs. As the path ahead of her opened up, she was surprised to see a small wooden cabin with a red door. Curiosity overcoming fear, she stepped onto the porch and rapped softly on the small red door. Listening, she could hear nothing but the crickets and sounds of the night. Peering in through a window, she rubbed the dust off with the heel of her hand, seeing nothing inside but shadows. A click of the door made her turn to see it opening slowly.
Stepping inside, she saw the most amazing sight! An old woman was at a spinning wheel. Blind, she stared straight ahead with opaque, sightless eyes. As the old mother fed the brightly colored yarn to the wheel, she would take the finished product, a tiny little coat, and lay it on the piles of finished ones.
“Who are you?” Lilly asked, staring in wonder at all the tiny coats. “I’m the dream weaver.” the old woman answered, her ancient face transformed by a smile. Suddenly, the outside of the cabin lit up with a strange, glowing light. From the doorway, flew in brightly colored orbs, flying around and around the old womans head as she worked, silvery giggles and tiny tinkles of laughter filling the room. Each orb turned into a tiny child, and one at a time, each grabbed a coat and flew back out again.
‘Oh my! What were they?” breathed Lilly, entranced by the magical sight. “Why, those are the dreams of the children, of course!” the old mother explained. “Every night they come, and every night I make them coats to keep their souls safe as they dream.” “How long have you been doing this?” Lilly asked. “Oh, for as long I can remember!” the old woman answered. “When will you stop?” “When the new dream weaver arrives, my dear.” she said, and winked at her. Lilly woke from her nap refreshed, and immediately went back to her spinning. Humming and feeding the brightly colored yarn, she added another coat to the ever growing pile. They would be here soon, her little angels.