There is nobody in the world who knows as many stories as Ole Lukøje, the Sandman. He arrives just when children are sitting nicely at the table or on their stools. He creeps up the stairs very softly in his socks. You cannot hear him coming.
He opens the door gently. Puff! He blows a tiny bit of sweet milk, or magic dust, into the children's eyes. It doesn't hurt, but it makes their eyelids feel so heavy that they cannot keep them open. They can't see him, but he is there, standing behind them.
Ole Lukøje is dressed beautifully. He wears a coat made of silk that changes color. One moment it is green, then red, then blue, depending on how he turns. Under his arm, he carries two umbrellas.
One umbrella has pictures on the inside, beautiful drawings of castles and gardens. He opens this over the good children so they dream wonderful stories all night long. The other umbrella has no pictures at all. He opens this over naughty children, and they sleep heavily without dreaming anything.
On Monday night, Ole Lukøje touched the flowers in the room pot with his magic wand. Instantly, they grew into great trees. Their branches stretched up to the ceiling and across the walls. The room became a beautiful hanging garden.
The flowers didn't just look pretty; they turned into delicious fruits that shone like gold. And if you listened closely, the petals sang songs better than any nursery rhyme. It was the perfect place to rest.
On Tuesday, Ole Lukøje looked at the painting on the wall. It was a landscape with a river and a castle. He lifted the little boy into the painting! Suddenly, the grass in the picture was real, and the sun was warm.
The boy could run into the painted forest and wave to the painted people, who waved back. He sat by the painted river and watched the swans swim by. The world inside the frame was alive and peaceful.
On Wednesday, it was raining outside. But with the Sandman, rain is magical. He opened the window, and the raindrops turned into a vast, calm ocean. A magnificent ship appeared, waiting to take the dreamer on a voyage.
The ship sailed through clouds that looked like fluffy pillows. There were no storms, only a gentle breeze that rocked the boat like a cradle. The dreamer sailed to lands where the sky is always violet and gold.
On Thursday, Ole Lukøje had a tiny invitation. "The mice are having a wedding," he whispered. He touched the child with his wand, and suddenly, shrink! The child became as small as a thumb.
They went under the floorboards where the mice lived. The corridors were lit with glowing fungus and fireflies. The smell of roasted bacon filled the air. It was a bustling, happy underground city.
The mouse bride and groom were beautiful. They feasted on a single pea that had been bitten by a kitchen mouse, which made it special. The child sat on a thimble and watched the tiny dancers spin around.
On Friday, the dolls in the playroom came alive. But they were sad because they were broken or old. Ole Lukøje fixed them with his magic glue. The dolls were so happy they set the table for a tea party.
The dolls didn't just sit; they danced! Even the old nutcracker did a somersault. The child watched from the bed, laughing softly as the toys played out a perfect theater show just for him.
On Saturday, an old porcelain figure of a Chinese mandarin on the shelf woke up. He could nod his head. He told the child stories of distant emperors and dragons, stories that were so long and gentle they made the child's eyes close even tighter.
On Sunday, Ole Lukøje lifted the child up high, past the roof, all the way to the stars. "Do not be afraid," he said. The stars were not fire; they were polished diamonds, cool and bright.
The Sandman took a soft cloth and polished the stars until they twinkled brighter. He showed the child that every star was a friend looking down, keeping watch over the sleeping world.
When the sun rose, Ole Lukøje closed his colorful umbrella. He kissed the child on the forehead and vanished. The child woke up feeling rested, happy, and full of wonder, though he couldn't quite remember why.
And so, every night, the Sandman returns. If you are quiet, and if you close your eyes tight, maybe tonight he will open the umbrella with the pictures for you. Sweet dreams.
