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 a perpetual dusk. These were dreams—dreams forgotten by their dreamers, abandoned in the rush of waking life. 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 maelstrom of her thoughts, when the wooden door appeared before her. Curious, she stepped inside.

“Welcome,” said the Archivist, the ageless caretaker of the library. “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 beautiful cat-like creature with wings 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.

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

Mara reached for the jar. As her fingers brushed the glass, the world within it burst into life, spilling out 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 with her dream clutched tightly to her chest. 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.