He had carried the dream for years. First where everyone could see it, later in an inside pocket, eventually somewhere between an old key and a letter he no longer read.
Kwartsoog's map showed a tower where vanished dreams were kept. He searched by every mound and behind every bend.
But whoever seeks their dream walks straight past.
Years later he returned without a map. He had simply forgotten why he was travelling.
At a crossroads he stopped. Behind him, a door opened.
Inside was one room. On the table lay something he recognised immediately and could not name.
‘Is it mine?’
‘You carried it long enough to think so,’ said the keeper.
He understood that the dream had never vanished. Only the need to make it come true had gone.
That did not make it smaller. Only lighter.
Above the entrance appeared:
Whoever seeks their dream walks past.
Whoever has forgotten it may enter.
The next morning Kwartsoog drew Tower IV on the place where the traveller had not found it.