A Prisoner of Dreamland: and Other Oneiric Terrors

Here there be manticores!

Welcome to Dreamland, where the stars are hungry and unspeakable horrors dog the dreamer’s heels.

Things are seldom what they seem in Dreamland: forests are labyrinths and butterflies have teeth. Nor is there any reliable map of the twilight continent. Every oneironaut charts their own out of the whole cloth of imagination. Nor is dreaming always a private affair. Not when everyone in town shares the same dream, or a stadium full of fans participate in a Master Dreamer’s latest entertainment, or a dead sibling lures you into a haunted nightmare, or a killer leaves taunting clues in the Kingdom of Nod, or the ghost of an ancient warlock beguiles the dreamer with promises of power.

Dream logic is as squirrely as March weather. Anything’s possible. The dead may rise, and that lover you thought you would spend your life with but haven’t seen in decades could be waiting around the next corner happy to see you. Or devour you.

That light glimmering in the evening mist? Follow it at your peril! And whatever you do in the land of Morpheus in pursuit of adventure or mystery, do not, under any circumstance, as you value your immortal soul, disturb the dreams of slumbering gods.

There have always been oneironauts, intrepid dreamers of imagination and will, who create their dreams and control their outcome.