The Forgotten Library

Hidden between crumbling alleys and beneath a sky perpetually grey, stood the forgotten library. It had no signpost, no grand entrance, just an unassuming wooden door with a handle stiffened by passing centuries. Few remembered it existed, and even fewer dared to enter.

Inside, shelves spiralled upwards, filled not with books, but with glass jars. Each jar held a swirling glow, like a firefly caught in an eternal dusk. These were dreams—dreams forgotten by their dreamers, abandoned in the rush of waking life.

The caretaker of the library, an ageless figure, moved silently through the maze of jars. No one knew how long the Archivist had been there, tending to the forgotten dreams, keeping them safe from the ravages of time. Some dreams flickered faintly, as if waiting for their dreamer to return. Others were vibrant, pulsing with untold stories that had never been fully realised.

One day, Mara stumbled upon the library by accident. She had been wandering the city aimlessly, lost in the chaos of her own thoughts, when the wooden door appeared before her. Curious, she stepped inside.

“Welcome,” said the Archivist, his voice soft like the turning of a page. “You’ve come for your dream.”

“My dream?” Mara frowned. “I haven’t dreamed in years.”

The Archivist smiled, gesturing to a small jar glowing softly on a lower shelf. “Not all dreams are remembered, but they are never truly lost.”

Mara approached the jar and peered inside. Slowly, like fog lifting from a forgotten shore, she saw fragments of a world she had once imagined as a child: a kingdom of floating islands, a ship that sailed through the clouds, and a strange, beautiful creature that could speak the language of the stars. It was a dream she had abandoned long ago, buried beneath the weight of growing up.

“Can I… take it back?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

The Archivist nodded. “Dreams are patient. They wait for you to remember.”

With trembling hands, Mara reached for the jar. As her fingers brushed the glass, the world within it burst into life, spilling out like a forgotten symphony. The kingdom of floating islands shimmered before her eyes, the ship unfurled its sails, and the star-speaking creature smiled as if greeting an old friend.

In that moment, Mara felt something she hadn’t felt in years: wonder.

She left the library that day with her dream clutched tightly in her heart. And though the city remained grey and the alleys twisted in confusion, something had changed. For the first time in a long time, Mara remembered what it felt like to dream.

As she disappeared into the streets, the Archivist watched from the doorway. Another forgotten dream had found its way home.