Little Jobi was usually the happiest baby monkey in the whole troop—always tumbling through the leaves, clinging to his mother’s fur, and squeaking excitedly whenever he spotted something new. But on this particular morning, the forest woke to an unusual sound: soft, trembling sniffles coming from the branch where Jobi slept. His tiny arms were wrapped tightly around himself, and his round eyes were clouded with fear. It wasn’t like him to cry, and certainly not before the sun had warmed the treetops.
His mother, Luma, climbed up to him at once. “Jobi,” she whispered gently, brushing a leaf from his cheek, “what’s wrong, little one?”
Jobi lifted his head, his lower lip quivering. “Mama… I had a bad dream,” he whimpered. His voice was so small it almost disappeared into the breeze. “A dream that made me remember something sad.”
Luma gathered him close. Dreams could be confusing for a young monkey; they twisted memories, fears, and imagination all together. Jobi took a shaky breath and continued, “I dreamed you were gone. I was all alone. I called for you, but no one came. It felt so real.”
The dream had stirred an old memory—one from when Jobi had gotten separated from the troop for just a moment during a storm. Though the adults had found him quickly, the fear of being alone had stayed deep inside him, quiet but still alive. The dream had pulled that fear back to the surface, making it feel fresh and sharp again.
Luma held him a little tighter. “Oh, Jobi,” she said softly, “dreams can feel real, but they can’t take away what is true. And the truth is this: I am here. I always come back. You are not alone.”
Jobi’s sniffles slowed. He buried his face in her fur, breathing in her warm, familiar scent. The morning sunlight filtered through the canopy, painting golden spots across their little branch. Slowly, the fear loosened its grip on him.
The other young monkeys soon arrived, chattering curiously. When they saw Jobi was okay, they invited him to play. He hesitated for a moment, still holding his mother’s hand, but finally smiled. Luma gave him a gentle nudge. “Go on, little one. I’ll be right here.”
As Jobi scampered off to join his friends, the dream drifted away like mist. What remained was the steady comfort of knowing that even when shadows crept into his sleep, the daylight—and the ones who loved him—would always chase them away.
