Every day, before getting dressed, she tucked her dreams into a secret cloud she hid in the back of her dresser. There they were safe from the discouragement of the day, the darkness of storms, and the heartbreak of growing up.

They clustered together, but they never grew tangled. They held each other up, but they never held each other back. Once or twice, a dream slipped away and came true. Those dreams were whispered about in hallowed tones.

Most of the dreams spent their whole lives inside their little, secret cloud. She took them out at night and followed them through the jungle of her slumber. These were the ones that she loved best on the far side of her life, the ones she shared with her children and her grandchildren. Dream by dream, she passed them on.


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