Sparky was a very small dragon, even for a baby dragon. He had scales the color of emeralds, a tiny puff of smoke that came out when he giggled, and a big problem: he couldn’t sleep! Every night, when the moon peeked over the Misty Mountains, all the other little dragons would snuggle into their caves and drift off to dreamland. But not Sparky. He’d wiggle, and jiggle, and try to count sheep (which, as it turned out, was very hard when you were a dragon who could accidentally breathe a little puff of flame).
“I just can’t!” he’d whine to his mama. “My wings feel tingly, my tail feels twitchy, and my thoughts are zooming like fireflies!” Mama Dragon would gently nuzzle him. “Sleep takes practice, little one,” she’d say. “It’s like learning to fly. You won’t get it right away, but you’ll get there.”
One night, Sparky decided he’d had enough of trying. He flew out of the cave, determined to find something, *anything*, to make him sleepy. He zoomed past Old Man Tiber, the wise tortoise, who was slowly munching on glow-berries. “Can you tell me a secret to falling asleep?” Sparky asked. Old Man Tiber blinked slowly. “The secret, little dragon, is to be still. To listen to the quiet. To feel the earth beneath your claws.”
Sparky tried to be still. He landed on a mossy rock and closed his eyes. But then he heard a buzzing bee, and his tail started twitching again. He flew off, frustrated. He found a group of glow-worms putting on a light show. “Maybe watching something calming will help!” he thought. But the lights were too bright, and they made his thoughts zoom even faster.
He even tried counting the stars, but there were *so many* stars! He lost count after seventy-three and felt more awake than ever. Discouraged, Sparky landed on a quiet hill overlooking the valley. He sighed, a little puff of smoke escaping his nostrils. He noticed the gentle breeze rustling the leaves, and the distant hoot of an owl.
He closed his eyes again, remembering Old Man Tiber’s words. This time, instead of fighting the tingly feeling in his wings, he just *noticed* it. He felt the cool air on his scales, and the soft moss beneath his claws. He listened to the quiet sounds of the night. Slowly, something amazing began to happen.
His thoughts didn’t disappear completely, but they started to slow down. The buzzing bee didn’t bother him. The bright lights didn’t distract him. He just…was. He realized that being a little bit wiggly and a little bit twitchy was okay. He didn’t have to be perfectly still to feel peaceful.
A warm, sleepy feeling spread through his body. He yawned, a big dragon yawn that sent a tiny spark flying into the air. He curled up on the mossy hill, and before he knew it, he was fast asleep, dreaming of flying among the stars. Mama Dragon found him there in the morning, a happy little dragon, finally knowing the magic of a peaceful night’s sleep. She smiled, knowing that Sparky had learned that sometimes, the best way to fall asleep is to simply be, and to accept whatever feelings come along with the quiet of the night.