The Sleepy Train to Dreamtown
A small train sets off after dark to carry the day's tired things to Dreamtown, picking up a lost teddy bear, a heavy schoolbag, and one very long yawn.
At the far end of the last platform, past the sandwich shop and the timetable nobody reads, there is a small green train that only runs at night. It is called the Sleepy Train, and it goes to exactly one place: Dreamtown.
The Sleepy Train does not carry people. It carries the things that got tired during the day, and it takes them somewhere soft, and it brings them back in the morning ready to be used again.
At half past seven it left the station with a sound like a long breath out. Its lamps were the colour of warm milk, and its wheels said the same two words over and over: almost there, almost there, almost there.
The first stop was Park Bench Halt, where a teddy bear was waiting under a lamp post. He had been left behind after lunch and had been very brave about it for six whole hours. "Room for one small bear?" asked the guard. "Always," said the train.
The second stop was Hallway Corner, where a schoolbag was sitting with its straps hanging down, far too full and rather sorry about it. Inside were three books, a jumper, half a sandwich, and one pinecone that nobody would explain.
"You may put it all down here," said the guard. "Everything gets carried for you on this train." So the schoolbag put it down, and became so light that it had to be held so it did not float off the seat.
The third stop was the strangest. At Window Ledge Junction, the train picked up a yawn. It was a very long yawn, the kind that starts in the toes, and it took up an entire carriage by itself and made everybody else yawn too, including the guard, including the train.
After that the Sleepy Train went slowly along the top of the hills, where the towns below looked like handfuls of dropped stars. It went slower still through the long tunnel where you cannot see anything and it does not matter at all.
The teddy bear leaned against the window. The schoolbag settled. The yawn spread out and made itself comfortable. Almost there, said the wheels, quieter now. Almost there. Almost.
Dreamtown has no station sign, because nobody arriving is awake enough to read one. It has soft platforms, and lamp posts with cotton wool around them, and a stationmaster who has never once raised his voice.
He came along the carriages very quietly, and he took the teddy bear to a warm bed, and he emptied the schoolbag and folded it flat, and he let the enormous yawn out into the sky where it turned into a slow grey cloud.
Then he turned off the lamps, one by one, all the way down the train. And in the morning every single thing was back where it belonged, a little lighter than the night before, and nobody could quite explain how.
The Sleepy Train is out there now, going slowly along the tops of the hills, carrying the day away for you. You do not have to stay awake for it. It knows the way. Good night, little traveller. Almost there.
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