Now I lay me down to sleep, and I am breathing with the valiant lions. The intensity grows greater and greater with each heaving exhalation. Acrobats slice through the air like darts streaming towards their targets. Long-legged women with white tights and baby blue tutus balance on the terrific galloping horses. And the ring master of course. Who could forget? That is me, the center of it all, tipping my hat to the thunderous crowd. I wave my baton, which feels as light as the sand beneath my feet. I run, I leap with the ease of the horses. I impress with the courageousness of a lion. I crowd-please with the goofiness of an elephant teetering on a small stool.

I sing my good-nights to the joyful crowd, blaring with overwhelming applause. Good night to the lions, beastly creatures with a booming voice, as strong as the radio alarm clock in the morning. Good night to acrobats, to their flips and twists that leave my gaping eyes spinning in all different directions. Good night to the horses, noble steeds to the delicate ladies that must be as light as my flashy baton. Good night, lively circus. I’ll meet you again at next bedtime.

I pray the Lord my soul to keep, and I am riding with the daring cowboys in the blazing heat of the good ole wild, wild west. These broncos are nutty and filthy, coated in brown fur shiny and sleek with sweat. They are nothing like the graceful steeds that run the circus. Herd the cattle, rope the calves. That’s all you gotta do as a cowboy. The horses buck and whinny. They come off stubborn as mules but I still herd the cattle. The rope is rough and prickly. I have red burns lining my palms and perspiration hanging on my brow but I still rope the calves. The end of a tiring day on the ranch is crowned with an orange glow in the mountains above and a slapping handshake with all the rowdy guys. Maybe a spit-shake with one or two.

I howl my good-nights to the rambunctious cowboys, galloping into the orange glow with a silhouette to take with me throughout my day. Good night to the horses, mustangs and mares, gleaming from the heat of exhaustion and perseverance. Good night to the cattle, hustling away from the intimidating beasts herding them into a band. Good night to the calves, tiny and meek, their squeals as they’re captured like music to my ears, and shrill as the radio alarm clock in the morning. Good night to the illuminating, fiery sunset, casting a glow on my drifting sensibility. Good night, good ole wild, wild west. I’ll meet you again at next bedtime.

If I should die before I wake, and I am floating in the nothingness of space, slowly gasping for breaths as it is taken away by awe. The sun is glimmering, adding a sparkle to all of my surroundings. Planets spiral round and round, their colors and mysteriousness creating wonder to my eyes. Earth beams with a unique sense of life. Mars radiates crimson and spotted with potential growth. And the moon softens the pleasure taken while floating in space. I feel as if I am one with the air, even though there is no air. I drift just like a lullaby, placid and soothing. In space I have no perception of where I am, yet I feel at home.

So I murmur my good-nights to the revolving planets that becalm me with the feeling of hypnosis. Good night to Mars, with the hopes that I may soon make something of its barren grounds. Good night to Earth, rocking me with the gentle arms of a mother as it turns. Good night to the sun, warming me to the sensation of ultimate happiness and security, and piercing me with the intensity of the radio alarm clock in the morning. Good night to the moon, with such a gentle touch it feels as if it rubs my back with two fingers, sending a chill so that my hairs stand on edge. Good night, wondrous, magical space. I’ll meet you again at next bedtime.

I pray the Lord my soul to take, and I rise to the deafening roar of the lion, the shattering shrieks of the captured calves, and the numbing feeling of the sun warming my face in the contentment of home, the contentment of my bed. I feel the warmth of my bedroom walls, decorated with the setting of a circus. I feel the warmth of my sheets, designed with crazy cowboys and their rowdy mustangs. And I feel the warmth of the mobile above my bed, spinning and turning, rotating and revolving, with the lulling sense of the planets, moon, and radiating sun. And I count down the minutes until next bedtime.