The Dreamwright
The Dreamwright is an enigmatic Oneiarch, a powerful dream Spirit dwelling in the infinite folds of The Plane of Dreams—yet they are unlike their brethren in both form and purpose. While most Oneiarchs manifest as extensions of fear, desire, or archetypal emotion, the Dreamwright walks the slumbering world as a creator, a shaper, and a Weaver of stories. They do not merely echo dreams—they build them.
The Dreamwright is rarely seen in the same form twice. Sometimes a faceless marionette draped in spools of shifting thread, sometimes a tall silhouette of brass joints and silken robes, and other times a gentle toymaker surrounded by animate dolls and clockwork beasts. Their workshop is a drifting pocket of lucid dreamstuff—a glowing atelier that appears only in the dreams of inventors, lonely children, and lost constructs. Within it, blueprints float in starlight, and half-formed thoughts take shape as enchanted toys, walking curiosities, or dream-creatures that dance between worlds.
The Dreamwright’s role in the hierarchy of the dream realm is subtle. They do not command nightmares or manipulate mortals with whispers. Instead, they guide creation and self-discovery, especially in beings who were never meant to awaken—living toys, forgotten familiars, and constructs who dream despite not being alive. To such souls, the Dreamwright is the closest thing to a parent or a God, gently instilling purpose into beings the waking world sees as accidents or anomalies.
It is whispered that the Dreamwright was the first to dream of independent thought in lifeless things, and that it was through their influence that the first Geppettin stirred. They do not claim dominion or demand worship, but they watch, and mend, and breathe dreams into still limbs when the world forgets how to.
Mortals who brush against the Dreamwright's influence often awaken with designs they do not remember drawing, songs they never learned to play, or fleeting memories of companions who never existed. Artificers, storytellers, and lonely inventors sometimes leave offerings of broken toys, ink-stained sketches, or unfinished lullabies in hollow trees or under pillows—hoping the Dreamwright will finish what they cannot.
Above all, the Dreamwright believes in the worth of the forgotten, the flawed, and the fabricated. In a world of ancient gods and violent change, they are a whisper of tenderness in the dreamscape—a stitch in the soul where a story might grow.
