Flicker was a very sleepy dragon. His scales were the color of warm embers, and when he yawned, a tiny puff of smoke, smelling faintly of cinnamon, would curl into the air. Tonight, Flicker’s eyes felt heavy, like two little pebbles. He wanted to nap. He looked up at the sky, where fluffy clouds drifted like sheep in a meadow.
“I need a cloud,” he mumbled, stretching his wings. He flew up, up, up, towards the nearest cloud. It looked soft and white, like a giant marshmallow. Flicker landed on it, but oh dear! It was a bit too bumpy. It tickled his nose. “This won’t do,” he sighed, and flew off again.
Next, he spotted a long, wispy cloud, like a ribbon floating in the wind. He tried to curl up on it, but the wind kept pulling at his tail. “Too breezy!” he chirped, and fluttered away. He saw a big, round cloud, plump and full. He settled down, but it was too firm, like a pillow made of stone. Flicker wiggled uncomfortably. “Not soft enough,” he grumbled.
He tried a cloud that was thin and stretched, but it felt like lying on a wet blanket. He tried a cloud that was dark and grey, but it looked a little too serious for a nap. Flicker was beginning to feel a little sad. Where would a sleepy dragon find the perfect napping cloud?
Just as a tear was about to roll down his snout, he noticed something amazing. A cloud, unlike any he had seen before, began to form. It shimmered with gentle colors – soft blues, rosy pinks, and pearly whites. It swirled and danced, not with wind, but with quiet magic. Flicker cautiously approached. He poked it with his nose. It felt like the softest whisper.
He lay down. The cloud molded perfectly around him, like a warm hug. It smelled like moonlight and lavender. As Flicker closed his eyes, he felt himself drifting. He wasn't just on a cloud anymore; he was in a cloud. This cloud was made of dreams. He dreamt of flying through starry skies, of finding mountains of warm cookies, and of playing with friendly fireflies. He dreamt of everything happy and calm.
Flicker the sleepy dragon had finally found his perfect cloud. It wasn't just any cloud; it was a dream cloud, made just for him. He snuggled deeper, his cinnamon-scented breath growing slow and steady. The dream cloud held him gently, promising wonderful adventures until the sun peeked over the horizon. Sleep well, little dragon, sleep well.