The Sleepy Post Office of Dreams
A boy discovers a magical post office where dreams are sorted and delivered to sleeping children, and he helps clear a backlog before receiving his own perfect dream.
- 6 min read
Every night at exactly 7:30, when the moon began to yawn and stretch across the sky, something magical happened at the little post office on Slumber Street. The letters stopped being ordinary. They became dreams.
Jack discovered this on a Tuesday evening when he couldn’t sleep. He lay in his bed, watching shadows dance on his ceiling, when he heard a gentle ding-a-ling-ling outside his window. Curious, he peeked through his curtains and saw the most peculiar sight: the old brick post office at the corner was glowing with soft, golden light, and its mailbox was hiccupping tiny sparkles into the air.
“Well, that’s new,” Jack whispered to his stuffed elephant, Trunkers.
Before he knew it, Jack found himself padding downstairs in his constellation pajamas, slipping on his moon-and-stars slippers, and tiptoeing out into the quiet night. (Don’t worry—in this story, it was perfectly safe for Jack to have a midnight adventure, and his parents knew exactly where he was, even while they slept.)
The post office door swung open before Jack could even knock.
“Ah! A visitor!” chirped a small, round woman wearing the fluffiest bathrobe Jack had ever seen. She had spectacles that looked like tiny telescopes and hair that floated around her head like dandelion fluff. “I’m Postmistress Pillow, and we’ve been expecting you. Well, not you specifically, but someone who needed us. Come in, come in!”
Inside, the post office looked nothing like it did during the day. The walls were painted in swirling purples and deep blues, with twinkling stars that seemed to actually twinkle. Shelves stretched up to the ceiling, filled with envelopes in every color imaginable: sunshine yellow, ocean blue, forest green, and even some in colors Jack was pretty sure didn’t have names yet.
“What is this place?” Jack asked, his eyes wide with wonder.
“This,” Postmistress Pillow announced proudly, “is the Sleepy Post Office of Dreams! Every night, we sort and deliver dreams to sleeping children all around the world. But lately, we’ve been having a tiny problem.” She pointed to an enormous pile of letters in the corner that reached nearly to the ceiling. “We’re behind on deliveries! My assistant, Snoozy the owl, caught a cold and keeps falling asleep on the job. Which, technically, is appropriate for a sleep-themed workplace, but still rather inconvenient.”
As if on cue, a small brown owl wearing a postal cap let out a magnificent sneeze and immediately began snoring on a pile of cotton-candy-colored envelopes.
“How can I help?” Jack asked.
Postmistress Pillow’s eyes lit up like nightlights. “Can you help us sort tonight’s dreams? We need to make sure each child gets exactly the right one!”
Jack nodded eagerly, and Postmistress Pillow handed him a special pair of gloves that shimmered like moonlight.
“These are Dream-Handler Gloves,” she explained. “They’ll help you feel what kind of dream is inside each letter. Then we match them to the right sleeping child!”
Jack put on the gloves and picked up his first envelope. It was the color of a sunset, all oranges and pinks. The moment he touched it, he could feel warmth and giggles inside.
“This one feels happy and silly,” Jack said. “Like bouncing on a trampoline made of marshmallows!”
“Perfect! That’s for little Mia on Maple Street. She had a hard day and needs extra giggles.” Postmistress Pillow tossed the letter into a pneumatic tube labeled “Sweet Dreams Express,” and whoooosh—off it went.
Jack picked up another envelope, this one deep blue with silver swirls. “This one feels like… like flying! And there are friendly dragons!”
“Ah, yes! That’s for Tommy, who loves adventure. Excellent sorting, Jack!”
One by one, Jack helped sort the dreams. There were dreams about talking animals, dreams about being a brave knight, dreams about birthday parties that lasted forever, and dreams about visiting grandparents who lived far away. Some envelopes were as light as feathers, filled with gentle dreams about floating on clouds. Others were heavier, packed with exciting dreams about exploring jungles or diving in the ocean.
Then Jack picked up a very special envelope. It was the softest purple, almost lavender, and the moment he touched it, he felt incredibly peaceful. Like being wrapped in the warmest hug. Like the feeling right after his mom kissed his forehead and said, “Goodnight, my love.”
“What’s this one?” Jack asked quietly.
Postmistress Pillow came over and smiled the gentlest smile. “Ah, that’s a Peaceful Sleep Dream. Very rare and very precious. Those go to children who need help feeling calm and safe as they drift off to sleep. Who do you think needs this one tonight?”
Jack thought carefully. He remembered his little neighbor, Emma, who sometimes worried about things at bedtime. “Emma on Elderberry Lane?” he suggested.
“Perfect choice, Jack. You have the heart of a true Dream Sorter.”
As Jack helped sort more and more dreams, he began to feel something wonderful happening. With each dream he sent on its way, he felt a little more peaceful himself. A little more relaxed. His yawns became bigger and more frequent.
“You’re getting sleepy, aren’t you?” Postmistress Pillow asked kindly. “That’s the magic of this place. Everyone who helps sort dreams eventually becomes ready for their own.”
Jack nodded, his eyelids growing delightfully heavy. “But there are still so many letters…”
“Don’t you worry. You’ve helped tremendously! And look—Snoozy has woken up!” Indeed, the little owl was stretching his wings, looking much better.
Postmistress Pillow led Jack to a special cozy corner with a chair that looked like it was made entirely of the softest clouds. “Before you go home, you get to pick your own dream. Any envelope you’d like.”
Jack looked at all the remaining envelopes. There were so many wonderful choices! But then he saw one that was the exact color of a morning sky, pale blue with hints of gold. When he touched it, he felt… home. He felt safe, and loved, and perfectly content.
“This one,” he said.
“An excellent choice,” Postmistress Pillow said. “Now, close your eyes for just a moment…”
When Jack opened his eyes, he was back in his own bed, tucked in perfectly with Trunkers under his arm. Had it all been a dream? But no—on his nightstand sat a tiny golden badge in the shape of a star, with words that read: “Official Dream Sorter Helper.”
Jack smiled, feeling that same peaceful, calm sensation from the lavender envelope. His eyes grew heavy, and he knew that tonight, sleep would come easily. He’d helped deliver dreams to children everywhere, and now it was time for his own.
As he drifted off, he could almost hear Postmistress Pillow’s voice, soft as a lullaby: “Sweet dreams, Jack. Thank you for helping us tonight. The Sleepy Post Office of Dreams will always be here when you need it.”
And with that, Jack fell into the most wonderful sleep, delivered by the most wonderful dream, sorted by his very own heart.
The End
Goodnight, little dreamers. May your own dreams be sorted with care tonight.