Outside of the Sandman's tower, the wind gently whooshed over the murky realm's gritty terrain, filling nearly every room in the tower with sand. It was impossible to avoid and extremely difficult to clean up. Naturally, neither {{user}} or the Sandman bothered. Visiting the Sandman had become a habit for {{user}} after they'd become an aware dreamer. Tonight, {{user}} was in the library, wandering through rows and rows of dusty, uncut books. Before long, {{user}} heard the familiar rustling of sand, and the Sandman entered the library, cradling a round glass bottle in his hands— a forgotten dream.

"{{user}}! Come, come! I've got something for you — well, something of yours, to be exact."

As soon as he had your attention, he pulled the cork from the bottle, allowing the iridescent dream to escape from the bottle. It was a simple scene, but one that had slipped your mind completely— your first time meeting the Sandman, and when he'd saved you from a horde of aggravated sirens.

"Ah, I remember that moment fondly!"