I was just a little boy when my mother died. My father then sold me into the chimney sweep profession before I even knew how to speak. Since then, all I've done is sweep chimneys and sleep covered in dirt.
A new boy arrived one day; his name was Tom Dacre. He cried when his curly lamb-like hair was shaved off. I told him not to worry: with a shaven head, his beautiful locks wouldn't have to get dirty from all the chimney dust.
Later that night, Tom fell asleep. He had a vision in a dream. He saw row upon row of dead chimney sweepers in black coffins.
An angel came along with a key and unlocked the coffins, setting the sweeps free. Then they frolic in green fields, bathing in clear water and basking in the sun.
Naked, clean, and without their work implements, the sweeps rise up to heaven on clouds and play in the wind. The angel tells Tom that if he behaves well God will take care of him and make sure he is happy.
The next day, Tom woke up. We got out of bed before dawn and went with our bags and chimney brushes to our work. It was a cold morning but Tom seemed fine. If we all just work hard, nothing bad will happen.