So just take a moment to allow your eyes to close.
Allow yourself to begin to relax.
And as you begin to comfortably fall asleep.
I don't know whether you'll drift to sleep faster to the.
.
.
Sound of my voice or whether it'll be to the spaces between my words.
And as you comfortably fall asleep.
I'm just going to tell this bedtime story in the background.
And the meadow.
Was warm and comfortable.
With the wildflowers.
Growing peacefully.
Waving gently in the breeze.
The sun beating down.
From overhead.
Trees rustling in the distance.
The bird circling in an updraft.
And a pig.
Building a house.
And they tried to build that house.
Out of stroll.
But the house just blew down.
Once there was a big gust of wind.
They rebuilt their house with wood.
But then an accident with a birthday cake.
Led to that house burning down.
And the fireman had to come out.
And put the fire out.
And so now they're.
Building this house out of brick.
But they're actually making.
The brick themselves.
They're getting clay and.
.
.
Building their own bricks.
And really taking time.
To map out the location for the house.
To dig down and build the foundations.
And then build up from those foundations.
A nice solid.
Sturdy brick house.
And they start building the house in the spring.
On the edge of this meadow.
The butterflies.
Flitting from plant to plant.
Bees buzzing around.
Birds flying high.
They know how it feels too.
Relax while building.
Feeling so comfortable with the nature around them.
Distant sound of the stream.
And the satisfaction.
Of every row of bricks laid.
Of the order.
Of those bricks.
And seeing that house gradually.
Rise up.
Higher and higher,
Day after day.
Smelling the sweet scent.
Of the wildflowers in spring.
Occasionally stopping for a break.
Going and sitting down by the stream.
Enjoying a piece of cake.
While resting their feet in the water.
Feeling the coolness of that water.
Hearing it trickle by so gently.
Looking back up.
At their house.
Finishing that break.
Heading back up and continuing.
To build that house.
And while they're building,
So they're staying.
In a tent.
And it's a tent that.
.
.
Made to look really nice and comfortable.
Like a large yurt.
And they rest in that tent every night.
The sound of the canvas weaving in the wind.
The occasional evening cool air.
Creeping.
Through the gaps.
The base of the tent.
And through the door.
But being in the coziest bed in that tent.
And the thickest.
Warmest.
Blanket.
Like hugging a large teddy bear.
While falling asleep.
And falling asleep with thoughts of the tasks to do the next day.
And a sense of satisfaction from the tasks.
They've done that day.
And awakening.
To the gentle glow within the tent.
Of the sun rising.
And shining on the canvas.
And that diffuse glow within the tent.
Makes the whole tent almost radiate with light.
And opening the tent and heading out for another day.
Of crafting bricks and then placing one brick on top of another.
Knowing that.
Once this house is built.
They'll have a tale to tell.
Of the previous houses they'd built.
What had happened to those houses?
And the thought and hard work they put into this one.
And a spring.
Moved on.
Gently into summer.
So they continued with their building.
The meadow filled with long grass.
Bright flowers.
Deer would visit the meadow.
And grey is in the meadow.
And rabbits.
Leaping through the tall grass,
As if trying not to tickle their bellies with that grass.
The tails flashing.
With white.
As they've lapped.
And robins would come and perch in trees.
Singing a beautiful solo song.
Keeping the pig company.
As they continued building.
And the summer days were long and hot.
They'd have to take multiple breaks going into their tent,
Often spending most of the lunchtime in their tent out of the sun.
But they would start really early in the morning.
And sunset wouldn't be until really late at night.
And even after the sun sets.
So the sky is still light.
And that slight orange glow of approaching night.
The pig would work.
And the gentle.
Light.
Of a tool.
Just perched slightly away from the house.
Flickering in the slight warm evening breeze.
Working until the stars were arching overhead.
Like diamonds glistening.
A treat.
For the hard work.
And now it's settled down.
At the end of a long day.
Sitting beside a campfire.
Softly crackling.
And popping.
Shadows dancing.
Occasional sight and sound of bats flying overhead.
The sound of a distant owl hooting.
In the woodland.
The occasional rustle of animals moving in the meadow.
And prancing around in the wood.
And the smell of food they would cook.
Late in the evening on that fire.
And settling down with a warm,
Thick drink.
That brings a deep sense of peace and comfort.
As that warm liquid flows.
And their mail.
Down their throat.
And gently to their stomach.
And something about that warm liquid.
Makes their cheeks go slightly rosy.
And their ears tingle slightly.
And their breathing slows down.
As they feel a sense of drifting deeper.
And deeper inside.
And just thought.
Of the day.
The Word.
They've carried out.
And the work they've still got to do.
And as they rest there one night.
Enjoying that warm drink.
By the fire.
Gazing into the fire as it sparkles.
And flickers.
The flames seeming almost hypnotic.
They find their eyes gently defocusing.
And as their eyes gently defocus.
They remember how sad they were when their second house burnt down.
Remember the fun they were having before it.
The excitement of playing hide and seek.
Of playing different games.
And flash forward.
Remember.
That feeling of excitement.
They decided to build a new house and they started working on the plans.
For this new house.
Drawing up what it was going to look like.
What the foundations were going to be like.
What each level of the house was going to be like.
Where it's going to be situated.
And recalling back to that time.
Finding that perfect hiding place.
Knowing.
No one could ever find them.
Recalling playing.
A game where they had to make their way secretly.
And very stealthily.
From a starting point.
To a flag.
And their friends had to try and catch them.
And crawling.
Through the grass.
On their belly.
Feeling the slight tickle touch of that grass on their belly.
And around the snout.
As they pushed through the grass.
So carefully.
So quietly.
Remembering when they first learned.
That they could make their own bricks in the new house they were building.
And they're being taught how to make those breaks.
And how to make the bricks out of just what they can find.
Around where they live.
In the meadow.
By the stream.
And recalling.
Playing that game,
Sneaking to that flag.
And the excitement of getting closer and closer.
And not being caught.
And in a back pocket.
Having a braided rope they'd made.
With a grappling hook tied to the end.
And throwing that up.
From the foot of a tree.
It swinging around the tree.
Catching.
On the rope.
And then shimmying up that rope.
Up into the tree.
Pulling the rope up with them.
Creeping carefully.
Along a branch.
Overhanging the flag.
Reaching down with the grappling hook.
That hook swinging gently left and right.
Left.
And rye.
And circling and spiraling slightly.
And managing to catch it just underneath the flag.
And against the flagpole.
And lifting that flag up.
And some of the guards of that flag would near to the flag.
But looking the other way.
Not hearing the pig as they Sneakily.
Captured that flag.
Got it up into the tree with them.
And then snuck away.
And won the game.
And it was a happy memory for that pig.
As they flashed forward to,
Laying that very first brick.
Knowing that that first brick is the start of a whole new home.
Almost like everything that has happened in the middle.
Just fizzed and flickered in the flames of the fire.
Sizzling.
Fading.
Almost like it was glitching.
In the mind's eye,
Back and forth,
Back and forth.
Fizzing and glitching.
And fizzling out.
Into that fire as it burnt down gently to embers.
And as the fire dimmed.
So did.
The negative feelings they had.
Of some of those experiences.
I remembered it wasn't the greatest moment.
But they'll always have that game.
And laying that first brick.
And with a gentle smile.
As the fire.
Turned grey.
And ashen.
And the last of thee.
Read.
Of the warm logs.
Disappeared.
Fade it away.
So their eyes wanted to close.
And so they settled down.
Into that most comfortable bed.
And it was perhaps one.
Two or four.
Breaths before they.
Fall asleep comfortably.
Deeply.
Dreaming of the future.
What it holds and what it will be.
Awakening early to that glow through the tent.
The fresh scent of the summer air.
Continuing to build.
That house higher and higher.
Feeling like as they build the house.
So they're building up a part of themselves.
Those strong foundations.
The structure.
The decision on which room goes where.
And through the long summer days.
They get a lot of the work done.
And they spend a lot of time.
Dangling their feet in the stream.
And as summer turns to autumn.
So the house now looks a lot like a house.
Just missing a roof.
And half of a top floor.
And the autumn days are shorter.
In the meadow.
Has dwindled.
The long grass is now short.
The bright flowers.
Have vanished.
And just some.
.
.
Soft,
Silky,
Red roses.
Dotted on the edge of the meadow.
Among.
Bushes with waxy leaves.
The trees now rustling.
As if trying to rub off the last of the leaves.
Those brown,
Golden leaves.
And the oranges and the different autumn hues.
Crunching.
Crumbling.
Falling to the ground.
Blowing around.
As the wind blows a breeze.
And while the wind blows a breeze through the autumn trees.
So those leaves begin to carpet.
The floor of the meadow.
And as the pig takes their break and walks down to the stream,
So they crunch over those autumn leaves.
And the water sounds thicker and heavier.
As it trickles by.
And feels cooler to the touch.
In the low morning and low evening light.
Dances on the surface of the water.
Like tiny diamonds jumping.
From peak to peak.
As that water flows past.
And each morning starts off cold and each evening ends more chilly.
At the middle of each day.
There's a certain warmth.
On the sunny days.
And a slight heaviness to the cloudy days.
And sometimes it rains so heavily.
And so windy.
They spend much of the day tucked safely away.
In their tent.
The wind and rain buffeting that tent.
The canvas shaking.
Pulsing and rippling.
The sound of the rain.
Turning the tent.
Into a drum played by a million insects at once.
Reverberating through the tent.
As they wrap themselves up so warm and cosy in that bed.
The blanket tucked up.
Just underneath their head.
And spending those hours.
Reading a book.
Sometimes just thinking about what they can cook.
Because they can't.
Cook outside.
When it's pouring with rain.
And so instead,
They have to make do with eating.
Fruit.
And other food that doesn't require cooking.
But on the clear days.
Get as much of the building work done as they can.
And they can see.
Coming to the end of their building.
They know it won't take long now.
To finish building this house.
And as autumn,
Slowly.
Transitions to winter.
So sometimes rain falls with snow.
And the meadow.
Turns to mud.
And they slip and slide their way down to the stream.
And occasionally have to crack the ice along the side of the stream.
And that water smells so fresh and calm.
And other times.
They wake to its snowing.
And the environment becomes still.
The colour drains from the environment.
The sound.
Become soft.
And muted.
And they can see in the snow the most delicate tiny footprints of small animals.
Which you've explored.
The meadow.
And nuzzle the heads into thee.
Snow-covered land.
In search of grass.
Buried beneath that snow.
And they watch.
As tiny rabbits leap.
Through that snow.
As large deer.
Through the meadow.
And back into woodland.
And a curious fox which occasionally comes out from under a bush.
Roams around for a while,
One day even rolling on its back,
Whipping up the snow with its tail.
Ending up with a fluffy snowy white tail.
And playing in that snow.
Leaping off a tree stump.
Splatting into the snow.
Leaving a fox print.
In snow.
As that pig builds the.
.
.
The final part of its house.
Adding the final touches to the roof.
Just as winter's coming to an end.
And as spring dawns.
And the first spring sun shines across the meadow.
So the house.
Is complete.
On the outside.
And they now begin to work on the inside.
They know that their outside is how they want it.
It all looks right.
And from top to bottom.
They think about the inside,
What goes in the different rooms.
How do they want it decorated?
How do they make the inside?
How they want it.
And so for a few weeks.
They spend a lot of time.
In the beginning of spring.
Writing down.
Their ideas.
Drawing images.
Of what they think it should look like.
Drawing out the different rooms.
Taking measurements.
For their pictures.
And as they do,
They can see the front of their house.
They feel inspired.
By what the house looks like.
Knowing across the year.
They built that themselves.
The strong foundations.
And that sturdy built house.
That fits well in this environment.
And they sit in their tent.
Looking out across the meadow.
While drawing their ideas.
Before then seeking the items they need.
Furnishing that house.
Placing smaller items.
Personal.
Items in the house.
Giving some character.
To the inside of the house.
Making their house.
A home.
Watching and noticing the animals that have been around.
Watching them build this house all year.
Now stopping.
And looking at the achievement.
And by the end of spring.
The house is as they want it.
And they take down the tent.
And they throw down some grass seed where the tent has been.
All year long.
And they water that grass seed.
And leave it to do its thing.
And as a celebration of their new home.
They plant.
A seed of a sunflower.
By their front door.
Just to the side of the front door.
They give it some water.
They gently pat the air.
Then they leave that sunflower.
To grow up.
In its own way.
Before heading in.
To their home.
Putting on the kettle.
In the home for the first time ever.
Waiting and watching.
With anticipation.
Patient.
Transfixed.
On when the water begins to bubble and boil.
Pouring themselves a warm,
Comfortable drink.
And then sitting.
Out on a small porch out the front of their house.
Holding that drink.
Comfortably.
The steam gently rising from the cup.
As the sun begins to set.
And ball of the sun.
Begins to set.
Drift into a reverie.
Curious about the day.
About the future.
About this new home they now have.
This is their first day.
And their new home.
And after drinking that drink.
And going and setting.
In a comfortable chair in the living room.
Beginning to read a book.
They decide with this being their first day.
They're going to keep a diary.
Or journal,
A record.
Of this new life,
This new home.
And they head up to bed and they sit in bed.
Propped up.
By a plethora of pillows.
And while sinking comfortably into those pillows.
With a purple fountain pen.
They begin to write a prologue in their journal.
Telling the story.
To their first day.
In their home.
And after writing that prologue.
They start to write.
Their first day.
The first experiences.
And then on the front of this journal.
They write a pig's tale.
Gently close that journal.
They settle down in bed and drift and float.
So peacefully and comfortably asleep.
Having the most profound sleep.
Deepest,
Most comfortable sleep.
For their first night.
In this new home.
And the next morning they awaken.
Curious what to do.
Now they've finished building.
They've spent a whole year.
Building this home.
And now that it is a home.
They don't have a task to fill their time.
And so after breakfast.
They head outside.
They pot around in the meadow.
They enjoy the sights and sounds in the meadow.
Gentle,
Wispy clouds overhead.
But they feel a bit directionless.
They feel like they need some kind of a task.
Feel restless.
Like they've got no outlet.
For their energy.
And as they.
Go and sit down by the stream.
They hear the noise of an animal eating the grass.
And they gaze up.
And they see the other side of a stream.
Is a Lama.
Wearing a polka dot jersey.
And cherry earrings.
With a Mohican.
Of purple hair.
And alarm.
Talk softly.
Gently to the pig.
And tells the pig.
That they're needed.
There's a bigger purpose for them.
And there's an adventure for them to go on.
And the Lama hands them.
Some dark glasses.
And when the pig puts those dark glasses on.
Suddenly,
It's as if the world is overlaid.
With a hologram.
They see.
A turtle standing before them.
And this turtle explains that they're from another time.
And these glasses allow you to communicate.
And see things almost like augmented reality.
And the turtle.
Asks.
The pig to follow them.
And so the pig follows that turtle.
I say very slowly.
Walk along the far side.
Of that stream.
Only it doesn't look like.
They're actually walking along the stream for the turtle.
The pig can't work out where they're walking.
But the pig follows them along.
And heads over past the small,
Gentle waterfall on the stream.
All the way over to a stone footbridge.
We're a small footpath.
Reaches the bridge,
Crosses the stream.
Walks past that stone footbridge.
And heads.
To a large oak tree.
And the turtle stops.
Front of that oak tree.
And tells thee.
This is where they need to go.
And gestures to the tree.
And the pig takes the glasses off.
And it just looks like an oak tree.
Puts the glasses on.
And the turtle is stood there.
Still gesturing.
And so the glass is on.
The pig fills around the side of this tree.
Pushes on the bar.
Even tries shaking the tree a little.
Which just makes the leaves softly rattle and shake.
And then while pushing on the tree.
And walking around the tree.
The pig accidentally steps on a root.
Which seems to move and open a passageway into the tree.
And the other side of the passageway.
As far as it looks on the glasses.
Is a fizzing.
Blue portal.
And the pig removes the glasses.
And it just looked like an entrance into the tree.
And the pig places those glasses back on again.
And the portal.
Is right before them.
And so they step through that portal.
And the whole body tingles.
From the top of their head to the tip of their tail.
And everything around them.
Goes electric blue.
And in a flash.
That feels like they're exiting the other side of this tree.
They find themselves in the most beautiful bluebell woods.
And they walk through this blue bellwoods.
The scent of the bluebells.
Filling their nostrils.
And they do a mix of looking through the glasses.
Taking the glasses off.
As they were.
To try and see if they can notice what,
Perhaps,
They're here to do.
And as they will.
To hear the sound.
Of a drum being played in the distance.
An ethereal sound of a tongue drum.
As they get closer to that sound.
They wonder whether there's multiple drums being played.
But notice when they're near to it.
That it isn't.
Multiple drums being played.
It's a single drum being played.
By an eight-legged,
Furry creature.
That looks a little bit like a cow.
Mixed.
Was a very fluffy animal.
Works for her.
Is even more fluffy.
Than a highland cow.
That a highland cow's hair.
Would even be short.
And thin.
Compared to this creature.
And it had multiple legs playing that drum.
Almost playing in harmony with itself.
Its eyes seemingly glazed over while it was lost in thought.
Absorbed in the playing.
And the pig.
Carefully,
Slowly.
Walked over to them.
And as they got near.
So,
The creature stopped playing.
And looked up at them.
And smiled so gently.
And they called themselves Noodle.
Because they like noodling on musical instruments.
Just being lost in the experience of playing music.
Whether it's playing this magical drum.
Or playing a tree.
Or even playing the grass.
And creating music out of thin air.
They can even use their fur and turn that into an instrument.
Which when played sounds a bit like a violin.
And so they enjoy just noodling on instruments.
And they told the pig.
That they have a job they need to do.
And a role they need to take.
They need this pig.
To be something of a secret agent.
They're aware of their past.
A skill at sneaking.
They were watching.
Because they have a connection with all things.
They saw the way that pig.
Captured that flag.
All those years ago.
They've seen the tenacity.
Of that pig building a home from the ground up.
The patience the pig has.
Deep down.
The planning.
All these skills that are necessary.
For working as a secret agent.
And they'll send them on a mission.
And then for future missions.
The crow will.
Deliver a message.
And leave that message at your home.
They say.
And your missions take place through time.
Putting right what once went wrong.
Each time leaping home.
Back to that tree.
Where you'll exit that tree.
And find yourself back.
On the edge of your meadow.
And they said that this first task this first mission.
You just have to go and retrieve a book.
And so to retrieve that book.
You'll be given some space and time coordinates.
They'll be programmed into the glasses.
You walk through the tree.
You'll find yourself at those coordinates.
And every mission will be programmed into the glasses.
And so the first coordinates are programmed.
Into those glasses.
They head back.
To the tree.
Now excited they have something to do.
Something to keep them busy.
To fill their thoughts.
As they head through the tree.
With those coordinates programmed in.
They exit.
The other side of the tree.
They see before them a vast,
Snowy,
Freezing cold landscape.
The single igloo.
In the middle of that landscape.
Ahead.
Through the Strong wind.
That's nipping at the side of their face.
That there is.
On the door of the igloo.
And Eskimo invites them in.
And it's so much warmer.
Inside the igloo than outside.
And the Eskimo knows why they're there.
And opens a hatch in the base of the igloo.
And tells them to head down that hatch.
And they lie on their belly on a trolley.
They pull a lever.
And the trolley shoots off down that hatch.
Rumbling,
Weaving.
Around an ice path.
Under the landscape.
Before coming to a halt.
At the edge of an ice cliff.
Looking out under the ocean.
And they're surprised by what they see.
Under this ocean is a dome.
Inside that dome is an underwater garden.
And a small little cabin.
And so they.
Get off of that trolley.
They see next to them.
Is some diving gear.
They place on that diving gear.
They head through a door.
Seal that door behind them.
They press a button that makes the water slowly fill this space that they're in.
Until the water inside the space therein.
Is entirely filled.
And then they open the door to the ocean.
Close that door behind them.
The bubbles.
Their diving gear with each breath.
Tickling the side of the head as they rise up towards the surface.
They swim towards that dome.
They find their way to the entrance to the dome.
They take the lock picking kit they have attached to their diving gear.
They carefully pick the lock.
As they open the door.
So the water floods in with them.
Into the chamber at the other side of the door.
They seal the door behind them.
Press a button and the water pumps out of this chamber.
To remove the diving gear.
They pick the next lot.
Into the dome.
And they sneak their way.
Through this garden.
Getting closer and closer to that cabin.
And they can see off to the side of the cabin.
Is a creature.
Playing chess against themselves.
And the pig wonders who's winning.
And that creature looks like a small gnome.
With a blue floppy hat,
Pointy ears,
A red nose.
And a bright green outfit.
With bright red,
Slightly curly shoes.
And they seem so preoccupied with their game.
Of chess against themselves.
That the pig manages to.
Sneak their way through that garden.
Find their way.
To the side of the cabin.
And they shimmy up the side of the cabin.
In through an upstairs window.
So quietly.
So carefully.
They tiptoe delicately.
Through the cabin.
Searching for a bookshelf.
On the ground floor.
Against a wall they find a bookshelf.
They look for a specific book.
They're scanning the names of the different books.
They find the book they're looking for.
They carefully pull on that book.
And the bookshelf.
And the bitter flaw there stood on.
Rotates.
And they find themselves.
And a secret.
Area behind the bookcase.
They start to descend some steps behind this bookcase.
Walking dear parents.
Deeper.
Into the bowels of this secret location.
And they find a door deep down under the cabin.
So pick the lock of that door.
They carefully head into this room.
And in the middle of this room.
They can see an ancient,
Ornate book.
Floating.
In a glass case.
Surrounded by lasers.
And different protection systems.
And so the pig carefully weaves and undulates.
And worms themselves around the lasers.
Over some,
Carefully trotting over them.
Sliding delicately under others.
Having to almost leap.
In a superman pose.
Between other lasers.
Tucking their tail in as they go.
All so delicately and quietly.
Until they get up to the glass.
And they take a look at that glass.
And all they've got on them.
As a pickaxe.
And it's only a very small pickaxe.
More used for climbing ice.
But they realize they need to get through this glass.
And so they very carefully score the glass.
With that axe.
And it makes a slight scratchy sound as they do.
And then they have to get up to the height.
Of the gap.
To be able to reach straight through to get the book.
And so they jump up.
As high as they can.
Catching the axe in a beam overhead.
And they throw up their suspenders.
Catching them.
On that axe.
And hang from their suspenders.
They reach in carefully.
They grab that floating magical book.
Carefully remove the book.
Drop back down to the floor.
And begin to sneak their way back out.
Heading back out the way they came.
Leaving the Dome.
Cutting back.
That entrance into the ice shelf.
And they can't take the trolley back up to the igloo.
But they notice.
There's another doorway.
They walk through that doorway.
And before them is what looks like.
A drop.
And as they looked down.
They noticed there's a trampoline down that drop.
As they jump as high as they can.
And as they strike the trampoline.
And then spring back up.
So they add in some additional strength from their legs.
They spring up high enough.
To knock a hatch.
At the surface.
And managed to grab on to the edge.
And pull themselves up out onto the snow.
And they find their way back.
To that portal.
Passing back through the portal.
Back out.
To the edge of their meadow.
And they carry in that book.
And as they walk through the meadow.
So they encounter that lama again.
Who takes the book from them.
Thanks them for the good job they've done.
Tells them.
That will be required.
If they're happy to do so.
To do many more missions in the future.
And that these missions are all about.
Saving.
Reality.
And putting right things that went wrong.
And thou return that magical book.
To its rightful place.
And changes in a different time and place.
Will be fixed because of them.
Because a wizard.
Will be able to do what they need to do.
And you don't have to know what.
The changes achieve.
Because if you've made the changes.
Life will go on.
As it's supposed to.
As they tell the pig from your perspective.
Nothing will ever seem different.
But only you know.
That you're the reason why.
Everything is the way it is.
And that you have more importance.
Than you realize.
And with that.
.
.
Palama walks away.
Seems to almost disappear.
In a delicate purple cloud.
And the pig crosses back over that stream.
Heads back to their cabin.
The sun gently setting.
And once back at their cabin.
They write in their journal.
About this first adventure.
And at the end of the day.
They head to their bed.
Settle down so peacefully.
So comfortably.
And without any effort at all.
They drift and float.
So peacefully,
So relaxed.
Into slumberland.
