It had been saved by the leader of the Guardians, Tsar Lunar, or as we call him, the “Man in the Moon.” But that was ages ago. Which was fitting, for this island had once been a star. In June it might be in the Pacific Ocean, and by July it might be off the coast of Madagascar, its whereabouts known only to the Moon and the stars.
As such, it was the only island on our planet that truly floated atop the water. The island was not connected to anything no landmass beneath the ocean anchored it in place. He rested in the dune-covered center of a tiny star-shaped island that was nearly impossible for humans to find, for it was not originally from the Earth. And his unruly hair twirled and twisted as he slept. The snoozing fellow was the color of golden sand-indeed, he seemed to be made of the stuff. In the waking world, the Guardians had lost one of their own to a powerful entity known as Mother Nature.īut an odd little man had been sleeping for more days and nights than any calendar could count. And then we awake, with disappointment or relief, as if nothing at all had happened. Entirely different lives are lived as we sleep. Strange, wondrous, and terrible adventures are the norm in dreams. Yet the hours that went by seemed no longer than the drifting journey of a leaf in a soft breeze. You can close your eyes when it is night, then open them again and see morning. TIME PASSES STRANGELY WHEN you are sleeping.
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