Meet Woolly, the Wide Awake Sheep
In a soft green meadow, tucked beneath a sky full of twinkling stars, there lived a little sheep named Woolly. Woolly had the fluffiest coat in the whole wide field, the pinkest little nose, and the most curious brown eyes you ever did see.
Every single night, when the moon climbed up high and the fireflies began to glow, all the other sheep would curl up in the soft grass and drift away to dreamland, but not Woolly.
Woolly would blink once, then twice, then blink again. But no matter how many times those big brown eyes blinked, sleep simply would not come.
Woolly Tries and Tries Again
“Maybe I need to count something,” thought Woolly quietly. So Woolly began to count the stars, one twinkly star… two twinkly stars… three twinkly stars…
But there were so many stars that Woolly got all muddled up and had to start all over again. Counting stars was not the answer.
Then Woolly tried lying on the left side, then the right side. Then with nose tucked under fluffy tail, but the grass tickled, the crickets were singing and a friendly little frog went ribbit ribbit just a little too loudly.
“Oh dear,” said Woolly with a tiny sigh. “Why can everyone sleep but me?”
A Visit to Old Bramble the Owl
Just at the edge of the meadow, in a grand old oak tree with branches wide as hugs, lived Old Bramble the Owl. Old Bramble was very wise and very kind, and he was always, always awake at night.
Woolly tiptoed across the dewy grass, drip, drip, drip went the little hooves, and looked up at the tree.
“Old Bramble?” called Woolly in a small, soft voice. I cannot sleep. Not even a little bit. Not even a tiny wink.
Old Bramble blinked his big golden eyes slowly and smiled. “Come sit beside me, little Woolly,” he said warmly, “And tell me, what are you thinking about?”
Woolly sat down and thought. “I am thinking… about tomorrow. Will the sun be warm? Will there be clover for breakfast? Will the butterflies come to play? And what if it rains? And what if…”
“Ah,” said Old Bramble gently, nodding his wise feathery head, “I see.”
The Secret That Old Bramble Shared
Old Bramble leaned down close and whispered, “Little Woolly, sleep is like a butterfly. If you chase it and chase it, it will flutter away. But if you sit very still, very calm, very quiet… it will land softly on its own.”
Woolly blinked, “but how do I be still? My mind keeps jumping like a baby bunny.
Old Bramble chuckled softly, “listen to the night, really listen, what do you hear?”
Woolly closed both eyes and listened. There was the wind… swoooosh… moving gently through the long grass. There was the brook nearby… trickle, trickle, trickle. There was the soft breathing of the sleeping sheep… in and out… in and out…
“I hear the wind,” said Woolly dreamily, “and the water, and the… and the…”
Woolly’s voice grew softer and softer, like a candle slowly dimming down.
At Last, Sweet Dreams Come Floating In
Old Bramble smiled his most knowing smile. He tucked a big, warm feather gently around Woolly’s shoulders, the way a cloud wraps itself around a mountain.
And there, beneath the big old oak tree, with the wind singing its sleepy song and the brook murmuring its gentle lullaby, Woolly’s fluffy white head nodded once, and then drooped down, and then rested quietly on the soft, cool grass.
The little sheep who could not sleep, was fast asleep at last.
And in those sweet, soft dreams, there was sunshine. There was clover. There were butterflies and warm summer breezes, and not a single worry in the world.
Good Morning, Happy Woolly
When the golden morning came, and the dew sparkled like tiny diamonds on every blade of grass, Woolly woke up feeling as light and bright as a soap bubble floating in the sunshine.
“Good morning, Old Bramble!” called Woolly, skipping happily across the meadow.
Old Bramble was already tucked away in his tree, ready for his daytime nap, but one sleepy golden eye opened just a little. “Good morning, little one. Did you sleep well?”
“I slept wonderfully!” cheered Woolly, “And do you know what? I did not count a single star!”
Old Bramble chuckled his warm, rumbling chuckle. Tomorrow night, he said, you will know just what to do.
And Woolly did, every night from then on, the little sheep would lie down in the soft, sweet smelling grass, close those big brown eyes, and simply listen to the night, the wind, the water, and the world breathing quietly all around.
And that is the end of the sheep who could not sleep story, a tale that reminds every little heart that rest is never far away. Sometimes all we need is to stop looking for sleep and simply let the quiet world around us carry us gently to dreamland.
Moral: A quiet mind is the softest pillow of all.