By the time Old Bear fell asleep for the winter, it was snowing hard.
Soon he was dreaming.
He dreamed that spring had come and he was a cub again.
The flowers were as big as trees. He took a nap in a giant pink crocus.
Then he dreamed that it was summer. The sun was a daisy, and the leaves were butterflies.
Part of the sky clouded over, and it rained blueberries.
Next, he dreamed of autumn.
Everything was yellow and orange and brown, even the birds and the fish and the water.
After that, he dreamed that winter was back. The world was covered in ice.
It was night, and the sky was blazing with stars of all colors. The cold went on forever.
Old Bear slept and dreamed, dreamed and slept.
When he finally woke up, it seemed to him that no time had passed since he had fallen asleep. He yawned. he stretched.
He poked his head out of his den to see if it was still snowing. He blinked. And blinked again.
And when Old Bear walked out into the beautiful spring day,
it took him a minute to realize that he wasn’t dreaming.
2017
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