I dreamed the naptime bell was a real thing

I was in a classroom where the naptime bell didn’t just signal rest—it opened a door. Kids walked through it into a field of floating blankets, each one humming a different lullaby. I followed a little girl with socks on backwards, and when we stepped through, the sky turned to the color of old milk. No one spoke. Just the sound of breath slowing down like a clock winding itself back. I woke up with my shoulders tight, like I’d been holding still for hours. Not sad. Just full. Like I’d remembered something I wasn’t supposed to forget.