In a dark room, a silent room, a dead room, behind a locked and bolted door, where none dare enter, from where none may ever leave, there is a dream. Captured in a corpse that cannot die, in the sleeper who cannot wake, must not wake—we are safe from the dream.
Not a whisper must escape, nor any sound disturb that eternal slumber. We guard the dream, and we protect the world from it.
But which is the dream, and on what side of the door am I? I wonder as I find my hand drawn ever closer to that knob.
Must not open the door!
What is there in the darkness? In the silence? What is this forbidden dream?
I must not open the door.
Tale Told 