☕️ Alice’s Mad Tea Party Presents:
🫖 Alice Spills the Tea: Stolen Dreams and Nightmares
Oh, my darling mortals, are you ready for a tale that’ll make you squirm in your bed tonight? Because this one? This one is about stolen dreams—and those nightmarish things that hide in the dark corners of your mind. We’ve all had nightmares, right? Of course we have. But what if the nightmares were never yours to begin with? What if someone—something—stole them, right from under your very eyelids?
Now, before you get all skeptical, let me tell you this: there’s a creature that lurks in the shadows of your dreams. Oh yes, a creature who feeds on them, twisting them, taking them, and then turning them into something... far darker. I’m not talking about your average, run-of-the-mill nightmare creature, darling. No, no, I’m talking about The Dream Thief.
This little fiend is known by many names. Some call it the Nightmare Weaver, others call it the Dreamcatcher’s Bane, but I call it the one who stole my soul. No, darling, I’m not exaggerating. This creature’s power is a force of nature, far more potent than you could imagine. Let me spill the tea on how I learned that lesson the hard way.
A long time ago, in the heart of 4EverMore, there was a town full of peaceful, sweet souls who had the most vivid, beautiful dreams. Oh, they dreamed of soaring through the sky, of sparkling oceans, and of eternal summers. They were the kind of dreams that made you feel like you were living in a fairytale. The kind that could carry you away, even in the darkest times.
But then, one by one, those dreams started to disappear.
At first, it was small. A few people woke up feeling empty, like their minds had been drained. No dreams. Just... silence. They didn’t think much of it. Maybe it was stress, or perhaps they had eaten too much cake the night before. It happens. But soon, the disappearances became more frequent. People started having nightmares instead of their usual sweet dreams. Nightmares that weren’t just unsettling. Oh no, darling. These nightmares were twisted, vile, like someone—or something—was playing with their minds. And that’s when the real horror began.
One night, a poor soul named Maura—bless her heart—was lying in bed when she heard a soft scratching noise. Scratch, scratch. It was coming from inside her walls. She tried to ignore it, but it wouldn’t stop. It was like tiny fingers, long and clawed, scraping at the wood, pulling at her sanity. Maura tossed and turned, but sleep wouldn’t come. When it finally did, she found herself trapped in a dream so dark, so twisted, that it followed her when she woke up. And worse? She couldn’t remember the dream. She only knew it was horrible—horrible in a way that was just out of her reach, like it was... gone.
The next morning, Maura’s eyes were hollow, her face pale. She couldn’t speak of what she saw, but everyone knew something was wrong. That’s when the whispers started. “The Dream Thief is here. It’s come for our dreams.”
But who would believe it? I mean, who would? Until it came for me, of course.
You see, I wasn’t always so... aware of these things. I thought I was immune to the nightmares, too clever to fall for their tricks. But one night, in a moment of utter exhaustion, I fell asleep in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had a dream. But this wasn’t just any dream, darling. Oh, no. This one was sharp. So sharp it felt like my very soul was being pulled out of my body.
The Dream Thief had arrived.
I knew instantly. The moment the dream began, I felt it. The air grew thick and suffocating. I tried to move, tried to wake myself up, but I couldn’t. I was trapped. It was as though the dream was alive, breathing with me, wrapping itself around my throat, stealing the very essence of my being. And right there, in the darkness of my dream, standing in the shadows of my mind, I saw it.
The Dream Thief.
Its eyes were black holes, endless voids that swallowed everything in their path. Its mouth? A jagged slit, wide and hungry, filled with rows of teeth that could rip apart the very fabric of reality itself. It didn’t speak. No, darling. It didn’t need to. It knew what I feared, what I longed for. It knew my every secret, my every broken piece.
And then, with a cruel smile, it took everything.
The dream—the beautiful, ethereal dream I had been dreaming for centuries—vanished. Just like that. Gone. My soul felt empty, hollow, as if I had been robbed of something precious. When I woke up, I had no memory of the dream at all. But I could feel it. I could feel that deep, aching void inside me, like a part of me was missing. Stolen.
That’s the thing about the Dream Thief, darling. It doesn’t just steal your dreams. It steals your very self. Your hopes, your desires, your ambitions—all of them pulled out from underneath you, leaving you cold and empty.
And once it has your dreams, it feeds on them, turning them into nightmares, twisted and gnashing, until they’re nothing but empty shells of what they once were. Those stolen dreams are what power it, what keep it alive.
I managed to escape, of course, but that nightmarish feeling never really left me. I can still feel the weight of it sometimes, a dark shadow lurking at the edge of my mind. It’s waiting. Watching. And it won’t stop until it’s taken every last dream from every last soul.
So, darling, next time you close your eyes, remember this: there are things out there that want to steal your dreams. And if you’re not careful, they just might.
Keep your heart locked tight, and never let your dreams slip away. You never know who might be watching.
