The Dreaming Tree
Note for the Grown-Up Heart:
This story is not about darkness to be feared, but about fear itself learning how to love again.
In many traditions, the word demon, or daemon originally meant “spirit” or “guiding intelligence.”
Over time, it became twisted by fear and separation. This story invites both child and
parent to remember that what appears frightening often carries a question wearing a
mask—a question that only love can answer.
It teaches children, and the grown up ones to pause before guiding what they don’t understand, and to meet the unknown with curiosity, compassion, and courage.
Moral/Theme:
Fear, when listened to with love, becomes guidance.
For Sensitive Listeners: If your child is afraid of the word demon, you can replace it with shadow guide or forgotten friend.
Music: “Slippery Leaves” by Franz Gordon- licensed through Epidemic Sound
It was 2:11 a.m., the kind of quiet hour when dreams are still deciding what shape to take.
A child lay awake, watching the shadows dance on the ceiling.
Somewhere between a clink and a heartbeat, one shadow didn’t move the same.
It blinked back.
The child froze.
“Who’s there?” they whispered.
From the corner of the room came a voice, low and trembling.
“Please don’t be afraid of me… though I seem afraid of you.”
Out of the darkness stepped something tall and strange—horns like question marks,
eyes like forgotten stars.
It was the Demon Who Forgot He Was a Guide.
He hunched his shoulders and sighed.
“I wasn’t always this way,” he said. “I once helped children find their light when they got
lost in their thoughts. But one day, someone screamed at me before I could speak. And I
suppose I started believing I was what they saw.”
The child titled their head.
“So… you forgot who you were?”
He nodded, eyes glowing faintly with sadness.
“I forgot I was kind.”
The child thought for a long moment. Then they remembered something their heart had whispered before sleep:
“Love listens before it judges.”
They sat up, brave now, and asked, “What question are you wearing under your mask?”
The demon looked startled—as if no one ever asked him that before.
Slowly, his voice softened.
“I supposed I’ve been asking… can I still be loved?”
The child smiled.
“Oh… it’s just a question wearing a mask.”
And with that, the darkness thinned, his chest began to radiate a warm light, and his eyes turned to light.
He bowed his head.
“You remembered me,” he said.
“And now, I can remember myself. Thank you for your courageous love.”
With that, the child drifts to sleep, heart warm and calm, as the dawn whispered through the window:
“Fear is only forgotten love, waiting to be seen.”
Artwork: The Demon Who forgot He Was a Guide—remembering the light within.
Reflection:
Invite your child to linger in the quiet.
Gently ask:
“What part of the story made your heart feel warm?”
What do you think the demon forgot?”
Have you ever felt like you were wearing a mask because you were scared?”
You may share that sometimes adults forget too—that love doesn’t erase fear; it listens
to it until it remembers what it was trying to say.
This helps children learn that emotions aren’t enemies but messengers asking for kindness.
Let them see that even fear, when met with presence, can soften into understanding.
And if they don’t want to speak, that’s okay. Simply resting together in quiet love is also
part of the healing.
Bedtime Practice:
Light in the Chest
Purpose: to help children (and parents) remember that warmth lives within them, even when afraid.
Place a hand over your heart and take a slow breath together.
Imagine a small, glowing light inside your chest—the same kind of light the demon remembered.
Whisper softly:
“This light is love.
It stays with me in the dark.
I can listen, I can see, I can be brave.”
Breathe three times together, feeling the light grow a little brighter each time.
End with a smile or a soft “thank you”—to the light, to the guide, and to the part of you that remembered.