Tara’s Guild Quest: The Mystery of Vanishing Dreams
(Told by me, Tara, from the heart of our chaotic, cozy Bedroom Lodge)

Day 1 — The Trace of a Soft Shadow

I found the heart-shaped pillow wedged between the headboard and the wall like someone had tried to hide a guilty secret. It was the softest thing I’d ever touched—red velvet on one side, shimmering gold satin on the other—and the moment my fingers brushed it, a faint pulse of warmth traveled up my arm. The Professor’s pillow. He’d always claimed it helped him “think with his heart instead of his giant brain.” We’d teased him mercilessly about it.

Julie spotted the tiny embroidered initials first: P.L. She gasped so dramatically that LaLa nearly dropped the lavender candle she was holding. “That’s Professor Love-Lost!” Julie declared, because of course she immediately turned it into a romance novel title. John rolled his eyes so hard I heard them click, but he still knelt down and sniffed the pillow like a suspicious bloodhound. “Smells like… old books and someone crying happy tears,” he muttered.

We passed the pillow around the circle on the rug, and that’s when the dream fragment slipped out like smoke. I saw it clearest: the Professor, years younger, standing under a cherry-blossom tree in full pink rain, laughing while a woman with dark curls spun in a white dress. The dream was so full of aching, tender joy that my throat closed up. The Collector had taken it because it was too bright, too complete, too much like the kind of love that makes the rest of life feel slightly out of focus.

LaLa hugged the pillow to her chest and whispered, “We’re getting this one back. No spectral thief gets to keep Professor Love-Lost’s happy ending.”

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Tara 🇺🇸 031cde
Guild: Double D’s

Guild: Double D’s

John’s 🛏 GUILD QUEST: “THE MYSTERY OF VANISHING DREAMS”

🌙 The last nights in the Lodge have been downright eerie. The Bedroom, usually a cozy haven of soft blankets and gentle snores, now feels like a place where sleep itself is holding its breath. Dreams are vanishing—poof—leaving behind nothing but blank, white voids in our minds. Julie swears she woke up with a headache from a dream that never happened, Laura keeps muttering about forgotten adventures, and Tara insists the room is “whispering complaints.” LaLa just stares at the ceiling like she’s waiting for the punchline. Me? I’m John, and I’m not one to let mysteries linger. So our guild—Julie, Laura, Tara, LaLa, and yours truly—has decided to hunt down this so-called Dream Collector before it turns our nights into endless, empty naps.

📅 Day 1 — “The Trace of a Soft Shadow”

We started at dusk, creeping around the Bedroom like amateur detectives in fuzzy slippers. Tara spotted it first: a soft felt owl toy, hand-stitched with tiny emerald eyes that seemed to blink when the lamplight hit them just right. It had belonged to the Elven Lady, an ancient guest from who-knows-when, who left it behind centuries ago. We gathered around it on the rug, and the moment Julie touched it, a faint dream shimmered out like mist from a cracked bottle.

Inside was a dream of endless twilight forests, where the Elven Lady danced under silver leaves with a lover long lost to time. It was beautiful, heartbreaking, full of quiet longing. The Collector took it because it was too vivid—too full of real emotion that could keep a soul awake forever. Spooky? A little. Funny? Well, Tara joked that the owl looked like it was judging us for being “such loud dream-thieves.” We tucked the toy away, feeling the first chill of the mystery: whatever this Collector was, it had exquisite taste in stolen dreams.

Maryam 5b79b2
Level 465
Guild  🇷🇺 Desperate 🇷🇺 
Day 1
The dream collector looked around the room. Where could he find the first dream? It was important to start from the beginning, from that original dream, the purest, the most innocent of dreams, the dream of a child. Where could it be? He kept looking past furniture, clothes, cosmetics, curtains, rugs. Finally, tucked in a forgotten corner, there it was, a little soft toy, a rabbit perhaps, the toy of a small child that was a child no more. He held the toy anf felt it immediately. A dream about running through a meadow surrounded by flowers, butterflies, baby rabbits, tiny colorful birds, fluffy white clouds and a gentle breeze. The collector smiled a smile with cold eyes, a smile of satisfaction.  Now that he had found the original dream, he was sure to triumph. It was only a matter of time.

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Maryam 5b79b2

Guild: Double D’s

Julie’s Guild Quest: The Mystery of Vanishing Dreams

Day 1: The Trace of a Soft Shadow

The first night the complaints started, I thought it was just exhaustion playing tricks. But by morning, half the guild was pale and hollow-eyed, insisting their dreams had been… erased. Not forgotten—erased. Just blank white space where color and terror and longing should have been. Lala was the angriest, said it felt like someone had reached into her skull and stolen the only good thing she’d had in weeks.

We gathered in the Bedroom at dusk, the five of us—me, Lala, Laura, Tara, and John—armed with nothing but flashlights and suspicion.

That’s when I found it tangled in the fringe of the heaviest velvet curtain: a dreamcatcher so delicate it looked woven from moonlight and sighs. The feathers were impossibly soft, almost liquid, and tiny crystals winked like trapped stars. The moment my fingers brushed it, a shiver ran up my arm—not cold, but the memory of someone else’s longing.

John snorted, “Great. Our thief has taste in interior decorating.”
But Tara’s face went still. She recognized the craftsmanship immediately. “This isn’t decoration,” she whispered. “This is bait.”
The dream hidden inside had been a fragile, trembling thing: a child running barefoot through endless summer grass, laughing so hard she could barely breathe, chased by fireflies that sang her name. Pure, stupid joy—the kind adults aren’t supposed to remember.

The Collector took it because joy like that is rare currency in the dark. And because, Lala muttered darkly, some creatures can’t stand to hear laughter they’ll never make again.

Отредактировано BrownGunner6864 (2026-01-17 20:00:27)

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D8ab2f

Guild: Double D’s
Day 2: A Chest of Drawers with a Secret

The second night Laura refused to sleep. She sat cross-legged on the rug, glaring at the furniture like it had personally betrayed her.

Around 3 a.m. the bottom drawer of the old dressing-room chest began to rattle—softly, politely, as though embarrassed to be causing a scene. When we finally pried it open (John used a butter knife; he called it “forensic elegance”), we found only lavender sachets… and the faint imprint of a folded letter that wasn’t there anymore.

The dream that had once hidden inside was a forbidden one: a woman dreaming of kissing someone else’s husband in a rain-drenched garden, knowing full well it would ruin three lives and still choosing the taste of his mouth over safety. She’d folded the dream carefully, pressed it between sachets like a love letter to her own ruin, and hidden it where no one would ever look.

“Pathetic,” John said, but his voice cracked just slightly.
“Romantic,” Tara corrected, eyes glittering. “And catastrophically stupid.”

The Collector had taken it not for the passion, Laura realized, but for the shame that came afterward—the sour, exquisite self-hatred that lingered like smoke.
Apparently shame is a delicacy to whatever’s been feeding on us.

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