I dreamed the naptime bell was a real thing

I was standing in the hallway of the kindergarten, and the bell didn’t just ring—it bloomed. A soft chime that unfurled like a paper lantern, glowing gold at the edges. Kids didn’t wake up. They just… stopped. Not asleep, not awake—just suspended in that hush between breaths. One little boy held a crumpled drawing of a dog with three legs, and I swear he was looking at me like he knew I’d never be able to explain why the blanket on his lap smelled like rain. When I woke, my hands were still folded like I’d been praying for something that doesn’t exist.