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Zusatztext “Lowry’s prose is simple and clear. This carefully plotted fantasy has inner logic and conviction. Readers will identify with Littlest! who is discovering her own special talents. . . . A beautiful novel with an intriguing premise.”–School Library Journal! Starred Informationen zum Autor Lois Lowry has twice been the recipient of Newbery Medals and has written many popular books for children. Klappentext From the two-time Newbery Award winning author of Number the Stars and The Giver, comes a novel about how even the smallest of dreams can break through the darkest of nights. Littlest One is a tiny creature slowly learning her job of giving dreams to humans. Each night she and her teacher, Thin Elderly, visit an old woman's home where she softly touches beloved objects, gathering happy memories, and drops of old scents and sounds. Littlest One pieces these bits together and presents them to her sleeping human in the form of pleasant dreams. But the dreaded Sinisteeds, dark fearsome creatures that plague their victims with nightmares, are always at work against the dreamgivers. When the old woman takes in John, an angry foster child with a troubled past, the Sinisteeds go after him with their horrifying nightmares. Can Littlest One, and her touch light as gossamer, protect John's heart and soul from the nightmare of his dark past? An owl called, its shuddering hoots repeating mournfully in the distance. Somewhere nearby, heavy wings swooped and a young rabbit, captured by sharp talons, shrieked as he was lifted to his doom. Startled, a raccoon looked up with bright eyes from the place where he was foraging. Two deer moved in tandem through a meadow. A thin cloud slid across the moon. ~~~ The pair crept stealthily through the small house. Night was their time of work, the time when human conversation had ceased, when thoughts had drifted away and even breathing and heartbeats had slowed. The outdoors was awake and stirring but the little house was dark and silent. They tiptoed, and whispered. Unaware, the woman and her dog slept soundly, though the dog, on his pillow bed of cedar shavings at the foot of the woman's four-poster, moved his legs now and then as if chasing a dream rabbit. "Are we a kind of dog?" Littlest One asked suddenly. "Shhh." They crept through the bedroom, out into the dark hall. "May I talk now?" "Oh, all right. Very quietly, though." "I asked if we are a kind of dog." Littlest One, whose name was sometimes shortened affectionately to simply Littlest, was working on this night with Fastidious, the one who had been designated her teacher. Littlest was very small, new to the work, energetic and curious. Fastidious was tired, impatient, and had a headache. She sniffed in exasperation. "Whatever makes you ask such a thing? The other learners never ask questions like that." "That's because they don't take time to think about things. I'm a thinker. Right now I'm thinking about whether I am a kind of dog." "You just tiptoed past one. What did you notice about him?" Littlest One thought. "A slight snore, a whiff of doggy breath, and his upper lip was folded under by mistake, just above a big tooth. It gave him an odd expression." "Does he resemble us in the least?" Littlest pondered. "No. But I believe there are many kinds of dogs. We saw that book, remember." "Hurry along," Fastidious said. "There's much to do, and we have to go down the stairs yet." Littlest One hurried along. The stairs were difficult, and she had to concentrate. "You do remember the book, don't you? Ouch!" She had stumbled a bit. "Grasp the carpet fibers. Look how I'm doing it." "Couldn't we flutter down?" "We can't waste our flutters. They use up energy." They both made their way carefully down. "I hear there are houses that have no stairs," Fastidious murmured in an irritated tone. "None at ...
