WorldsChild snuggled deep in the covers, hugging a pillow close, the air tinged with lavender and dreams. With a hush, WorldsChild whispered, "Hold my secret tight, dear friend, and let me wander where dreams bend." The comfort of the night wrapped around as the room began to shimmer, shapes and colors swirling at the edges of sleep.

WorldsChild felt taller, braver, and so small, gazing at the dresser’s great, shadowed wall. Pillows stacked became snowy peaks to scale, and the lamp a lighthouse guiding through a gale. "If I ride the quilted waves tonight, will I find a land where dreams take flight?"

With a whoosh, WorldsChild soared as silent as the breeze, the pillow a cloud, the air sweet as honeyed teas. From above, the world seemed soft and new, a secret map in every hue. "From up so high, I see it all—each tiny wonder, each treasure small."

Now shrinking down, the room grew grand, the ordinary turned to magic land. Threads of carpet tangled and wild, a jungle for a dreaming child. "I wander beneath the dresser’s shade, where dust motes dance and secrets are made."

Sometimes the lamp is a star to chase, sometimes a castle in a silver space. Every blink, the sizes rearrange, each new perspective wonderfully strange. "How big is a wish? How small is a fear? In dreamland, the answers appear."

WorldsChild sighed as the night grew deep, the secret safe, the promise of sleep. With dreams shifting softly in the pillow’s hold, WorldsChild drifted away, brave and bold. The worlds spun on, both great and small, in the heart of a child who’d dreamed them all.