Stange things happen at night when the world is still large, before it shrinks and becomes easy and safe. Out of the darkness of that eternal dim threshold between the the delightful, frustrating, enormous play time of the World of Day and the entrance into the time the call Sleep when things become strange and fluid, there looms the dark fear of coners and grainy blindness and disembodied light and noise. Now the guardian Muuuum-Daaaaad! refuses to help; still angry after the great Battle of Bed Time. In this world there are things which lurch and glide closer and closer and the jouirney to Sleep is so long... so long... This is how it has always been and how it will always be. History seems doomed to repeat itself foreverand ever. Or at least untill the age of 8.