Speaker 1: Max, did you feel that the air in the attic
just shifted? It wasn't a breeze exactly. It felt more
like the whole room just took a deep, settling breath.
Look over at the corner, past the stack of old encyclopedias.
The shadows are stretching out, looking soft and purple. But
the story light jar, Oh, Max, look at it. It's pulsing.
It's not just a wake. It's humming with a kind
of golden warmth that makes my wings tingle. I see
it loomy. It's glowing really bright tonight. It looks like
a jar full of warm honey, or maybe like the
sun when it's sleepy and dipping behind the hills. It's
making the whole attic feel cozy. That deep, rich golden
color is the amber light, the listening blow. It means
a story has arrived that is very old and very strong.
I can hear the dream word echoing inside the glass. Smacks.
It's a word that connects one heart to another. I'm
going to think it clearly helping. Ah.
Speaker 2: Yes, the lid is trembling. It knows we are ready.
Watch now as the light lifts, drifting up like a
dandelion seed caught in a gentle updraft. Ha ha, Come here,
my friend, my beard is ready to catch you.
Speaker 1: It's floating right into your beard grumps. It's making your
face glue. It looks like you have a sun on
your chin. Do you know where this story comes from?
Speaker 2: I do, max. As soon as that warmth touched me,
I smelled the scent of dry, sun baked earth, and
heard the sound of tall grass rustling in a hot breeze.
I feel the heaviness of a long afternoon nap. This
is a classic tale, one that has been told for
centuries to help children understand that even the smallest hands
can do great things. It is called the Lion and
the Mouse. The story is ready to be told. Are
you comfortable? Is your pillow soft enough?
Speaker 1: My pillow is perfect.
Speaker 2: Then let us begin. Long ago, in the heart of
a vast and golden savannah, the sun hung high and
heavy in the sky. It was the time of day
when the heat makes the air shimmer and dance, and
every creature in the jungle seeks out the cool relief
of the shade under the branches of a sprawling acacia tree.
The king of beasts was asleep The lion was magnificent Max.
He was huge, with pores as big as stones, and
a mane that flowed like a river of gold around
his magnificent head. He lay draped across the earth, his
body heavy and completely relaxed, sinking into the ground as
if the earth itself was holding him.
Speaker 1: That sounds incredibly peaceful, to be so big and strong,
but so still.
Speaker 2: It was a deep, RESTful sleep. His breathing was a slow,
rhythmic rumble in and out that seemed to set the
pace for the whole jungle. Um whoosh. Even the birds
had stopped singing to let the king rest. But in
the tall yellow grass nearby, there was a tiny ripple
of movement. A little mouse was hurrying home. He was
a busy little thing, with whiskers that twitched and paws
that scrambled over twigs and pebbles. He was running so fast,
his mind racing with thoughts of his cozy burrow, that
he didn't see the golden mantain rising in front of him.
Speaker 1: She didn't see the lion. That's a very big thing
to miss when.
Speaker 2: You are that small, Max, and the grass is that tall,
The world is a maze. The mouse scrambled up what
he thought was a smooth, furry hill. He ran along
a ridge that was actually a powerful shoulder, and then,
quite by accident, he tumbled down a slope and landed
PLoP right on the lion's wet black nose. The lion's
whiskers twitched, the rhythmic breathing stopped. One giant golden eye opened,
then the other.
Speaker 1: I imagine waking a sleeping king is terrifying for a.
Speaker 2: Mouse, the lion was not pleased to be woken from
such a lovely, heavy slumber. He let out a low
growl that vibrated in the mouse's tiny chest. Slowly, lazily,
the lion lifted one massive paw. It cast a shadow
over the little creature, blocking out the sun. He brought
it down gently but firmly, trapping the mouse. The mouse froze.
He was caught his tiny heart beat against his ribs
like a moth's wings. Flutter, flutter, flutter. He looked up
at the giant face and squeaked, oh, king, please, please
don't eat me. I didn't mean to wake you. I
was just trying to get home.
Speaker 1: He must have been shaking, but he spoke up anyway.
Speaker 2: He did. He gathered every ance of courage he had.
If you let me go, the mouse whispered, I promise,
I promise that one day I will help you. The
lion stared at the tiny thing between his claws. A
smile curled the edge of his mouth. Then a deep,
rumbling laugh bubbled up from his chest. You, the lion chuckled,
his voice thick with sleep, Help me. I am the
strongest creature in the savannah. You are smaller than my ear.
What could you possibly do for me?
Speaker 1: It does seem impossible, doesn't it like a snowflake trying
to help a mountain?
Speaker 2: Ha ha ha. It did seem impossible. But the lion was
not cruel. He was just big, and he was sleepy,
and he was amused by the little mouse's bravery very well,
the lion yawned, lifting his heavy paw. You have made
me smile, little one, Go run along to your home.
The mouse didn't wait. He scampered away, vanishing into the
safety of the grass, his tiny paws barely touching the ground.
The lion watched him go, then laid his great head
back down on his paws, closed his eyes, and drifted
back into his heavy golden dreams.
Speaker 1: That was nice of the lion. He let him go
just because he was kind.
Speaker 2: Kindness is often its own reason. Max days turned into weeks.
The sun rose and set, painting the sky pink and
orange over and over again. The savannah continued its slow,
steady rhythm. But one afternoon, the lion was prowling through
a dense thicket, looking for a new place to rest.
He stepped forward, and suddenly the ground seemed to leap
up at him. Whoosh, a hunter's trap had been waiting.
Thick rough ropes sprang into the air, wrapping around his legs,
his body, and his mane and net.
Speaker 1: They are terrible things. They hold you tight and don't
let go.
Speaker 2: The lion roared in surprise and anger. He twisted and turned.
He pulled with all his mighty strength, but the ropes
were knotted tight, and the more he struggled, the deeper
they dug into his fur. He was the king of beasts,
but he was trapped, suspended in the hot air, unable
to break free. His roars turned to low, sad groans
that drifted on the wind.
Speaker 1: Did the mouse hear him?
Speaker 2: Far away? Deep in his cool, dark burrow, pricked up
his ears. He knew that voice. It was the voice
that had laughed, but also the voice that had shown mercy.
That is the king, the mouse said, and he needs me.
He didn't think about how small he was. He didn't
think about how dangerous it might be. He just ran.
He followed the sound of the sad groans until he
found the lion, tangled and defeated.
Speaker 1: The lion must have felt very lonely.
Speaker 2: Right then he did loomy. When he saw the mouse,
he sighed, you have come to see the end of me.
The lion said heavily. I cannot break these ropes, but
the mouse shook his head. I made a promise, he squeaked,
and today is the day I keep it. The mouse
scampered up the lion's leg and found the thickest knot,
the one holding the net together. He began to chew
nor nor nor.
Speaker 1: It's a very rhythmic sound, gnawing.
Speaker 2: It was a slow, steady work. Max The mouse's teeth
were small, but they were sharp and persistent. He worked
on one strand snap it broke. He moved to the next.
Nor nor Nor. The sun began to set, casting long,
sleepy shadows across the lion's face. The lion lay very still,
feeling the tiny vibrations of the mouse's work. Slowly, inch
by inch, the tension in the net began to loosen.
The ropes slackened, Snap, snap.
Speaker 1: He was unraveling the problem one bite at a.
Speaker 2: Time, exactly loomy. Finally, with one last determined bite, the
main rope gave way. The net fell open like a
shedding skin. The lion stood up. He shook his legs,
feeling the blood return to them. He was free. He
looked down at the mouse, who was sitting on a leaf,
catching his breath. Thank you, The lion rumbled softly, and
his voice was full of wonder laught when you said
you would help me, but you have saved my life.
The mouse just smiled, twitched his nose and said, big
or small, a friend is a friend.
Speaker 1: I love that the mouse was the hero. He really
was a helper. He was max And look, the story
is finished. But the light in Gramps' his beard is changing.
The deep amber is softening, turning into a beautiful, shimmering
rose gold.
Speaker 2: That is the learning glow. The story has told us
what happened, But now the dream word helping wants us
to understand how it feels. We are going to step
inside the story just for a moment, to see what
happens after the net falls.
Speaker 1: The attic is melting away. I can see the tall
grass growing up through the floorboards. The air is getting warmer.
Speaker 2: Step gently, Max. We're in the savannah now. The sun
is low, turning the whole world golden. And look there,
near the roots of the baobab tree. It is our friend,
the mouse.
Speaker 1: I see him. He looks tired, but he's busy again.
Hello mouse. We can talk to him here Max. In
the learning glow, the characters can share their hearts with us. Mouse.
We saw what you did for the lion. You were wonderful.
Speaker 2: The mouse is looking up at us. He is wiping
his brow with a tiny paw. He seems to be
struggling with something big.
Speaker 3: Oh hello, I'm glad you saw it. But oh dear,
the work is never quite done, is it.
Speaker 1: What are you doing now, mouse? You should be resting.
Speaker 2: Look closely, Max. He is trying to push a large
seed pod that has rolled in front of the entrance
to his burrow. It looks very heavy for him. He
pushes and slips, pushes, and slips.
Speaker 3: Ah, I am trying to clear my door. My family
is inside sleeping. I want to make sure they can
get out easily when they wake up. But my paws,
they are so tired from chewing the ropes. I don't
think I have any strength left.
Speaker 1: That's not right. He helped the lion, so someone should
help him now. Helping is supposed to be passed around,
isn't it like sharing a toy? That is a beautiful
thought to Max, helping is a circle. Why don't you
ask him if he needs a hand?
Speaker 2: Mouse?
Speaker 1: Can I help you with that? I'm bigger than you.
Speaker 3: You would do that, you would help a little mouse
move a dusty old seed pod.
Speaker 1: Of course. I'll crouch down here. I'll put my hands
on this side, and you push from that side. Ready, one?
Two push?
Speaker 2: Look at it move with your steady hands. Max. The
heavy pod rolls away easily. It tom into the grass,
clearing the entrance completely.
Speaker 1: There it's gone. How does that feel, mouse?
Speaker 2: Ah?
Speaker 1: It feels like breathing out.
Speaker 3: It feels light.
Speaker 1: When you helped me, the worry just floated away. Thank you.
Look at him, Max, he's leaning against the tree root now,
and his little chest is rising and falling much more slowly.
He looks so peaceful, Max, How did it feel for
you to do that, to use your strength for him?
It felt good warm. My hands are a little dusty,
but inside I feel quiet. It wasn't a big adventure, loomy,
I just moved a seed. But the mouse looks so relieved.
Speaker 2: That is the secret of the dream word, Max. Helping
isn't always about saving a life.
Speaker 1: More gentle sleep.
Speaker 2: Sometimes it is just about moving away so someone else
can rest good night. It is the feeling of saying
I have got this for you.
Speaker 1: I've got this. Yeah, that's a nice thing to say.
The mouse is smiling now. He's crawling toward his door.
He knows he is safe, he knows he is supported.
The circle is.
Speaker 2: Complete, And because the circle is complete, the story can
truly rest. I think we've found what we came for.
Speaker 1: Look, Max, the rose gold light is fading. It is
cooling down, turning into a soft, misty lavender blue. The
heat of the savannah is lifting. It's the dream gate.
It's opening right there between the tall blades of grass.
It looks like a curtain made of twilight.
Speaker 2: The living glow is here the time for doing is over.
Now is the time for drifting. The dream gate is
open because the helping is finished. We can leave the
savannah behind.
Speaker 1: Come let's float through gently into Nocturnia. It's so different here.
The ground isn't hard earth anymore. It feels like plush velvet.
Speaker 2: We have arrived in the marsh mellow meadows.
Speaker 1: Max.
Speaker 2: The ground here is soft and springy, remembering the feeling
of your favorite douvet. The light is dim and purple,
like the sky just before the first star appears. Everything
here moves slowly.
Speaker 1: Look over there, near the winding dream stream. The water
glows faintly as it flows. Hush, hush, And there is
our friend and the mouse. He's moving really slowly. Now
he's not running, he's just walking.
Speaker 2: He has crossed over to Nocturnia to return the dream word.
Watch him. He is carrying a single small piece of
the golden rope he chewed. It is the memory of
his helping.
Speaker 1: He is taking it to the dream tree. Do you
see it in the distance. Its great branches are wide
and protective. The leaves are shimmering with a gentle, glowing
light that pulses in time with your breathing. In and out.
The mouse is reaching the tree. He looks so tiny
next to the big trunk. He's reaching up.
Speaker 2: He is placing the little golden rope on a low,
sturdy branch. He is letting it go. He knows he
doesn't need to carry the feeling of helping into his sleep.
He doesn't need to look for anyone else to save tonight.
Speaker 1: The branch accepts the rope, It holds it safe. The
dream tree takes the weight so the mouse doesn't have
to look. The mouse is settling down in the soft
moss at the base of the tree. He's curling up.
He's wrapping his tail around his nose. He looks like
a little gray pebble.
Speaker 2: Now he is safe there. The dream tree watches over him.
The mouse is breathing, is slowing down. His whiskers are still.
No more work, no more helping, just resting.
Speaker 1: And as he rests, the lavender light spreads further, covering
the whole meadow in a blanket of calm. The world
is quiet, The day is fully put away. It's so peaceful.
Even the stream sounds sleepy.
Speaker 2: It is time for us to return to Max. The
attic is waiting for us. It is steady and warm.
Let's drift back up through the soft ceiling of Nocturnia,
higher and higher until we are back.
Speaker 3: Here.
Speaker 1: We are back in your room. Feel the bed underneath you, Max.
It is solid and strong. It is holding you up
so you don't have to hold yourself.
Speaker 2: I can feel the story light slipping from my beard.
It is ready to sleep too. It floats back towards
the jar, gently, slowly sinking inside.
Speaker 1: The lid clicks shut. The light is safe, The story
is tucked away, and you are safe. Max.
Speaker 2: Just notice your legs, they feel heavy and still. Notice
your tummy rising and falling gently. Notice your shoulders sinking
into the mattress.
Speaker 1: The pillow is soft under your head. The blanket is
warm over your body. Someone tucked you in because they
love you very much. You are loved, You are safe.
Speaker 2: There is nothing left to do, nothing to figure out,
just drifting.
Speaker 1: Good night, Max. Good night, sleepy listener. That was a
good one, Loomy. I think I'm just about asleep. Good night.
Speaker 3: The VISI