It began, as many questionable events in Luminvale did, with Mayor Flanagan storming into Milo's potion shop with a cape, confetti, and zero context.
"Milo, my dear herb-sprinkling alchemist of joy!" he announced, arms spread dramatically. "I require… a dream booster!"
Milo blinked up from his tea. "A… what now?"
The mayor marched up to the counter and slapped down a scroll, which unfurled into a list titled "Brilliant Future Ideas That Might Cause Temporary Panic."
"People have dreams, Milo," the mayor declared. "Big ones! Daring ones! Mine involves turning the town square into a trampoline jungle. But alas, people forget their dreams by morning. That's where you come in."
"You want me to make a potion that helps people remember their dreams?" Milo asked slowly.
"Better! A potion that makes their dreams come alive!"
Milo stared. "You want a potion that… turns dreams… into reality?"
"Only the fun parts!" the mayor winked. "Nothing creepy. No haunted tuba orchestras or flying tax forms."
Alma popped out from behind a stack of books. "That actually sounds amazing! Imagine seeing your happiest dreams play out during the day! We could call it—Dream Booster Deluxe!"
Luca strolled in, juggling cheese wheels. "What did I miss? Are we summoning nightmares? Because I had one about a talking muffin once, and I'm not emotionally ready to face it again."
---
And so, against better judgment and common sense, Milo started brewing.
He researched dream herbs like Slumberseed, Whimsyroot, and Snoreblossom. Alma collected stardust powder (from glittery moths), and Luca contributed a sock he swore was "infused with lazy day energy."
"I think that's just unwashed," Milo muttered.
They stirred, bubbled, and chanted the phrase "Only good dreams, no chaos beams" three times (just in case).
Finally, the potion was done. A swirling blue liquid with soft sparkles that hummed when held near your ear.
The mayor chugged it instantly.
"I AM READY TO BOUNCE!" he shouted, then politely asked, "Will it take long to kick in?"
Milo nodded. "About an hour, give or take a nap."
---
By midmorning, Luminvale had turned into a dream-fueled wonderland.
It started with the mayor bouncing across the square on invisible trampolines, shouting, "THIS IS THE HEIGHT OF POLICY!"
Then the florist, Ms. Poppy, who had always dreamed of being a swordfighter, was seen dueling her own tulip bouquets with dramatic flair and garden shears.
Old Man Barlow galloped through town on a llama—specifically, a llama wearing a crown and aviator goggles.
"King Llamuel rides again!" he cackled, throwing cookies at pedestrians.
"I didn't even know he liked llamas," Milo whispered, dodging a ginger snap missile.
"Dreams reveal the soul," Alma said wisely as a man floated by on a dream-powered banana boat.
---
By noon, the potion had spread.
Luca, ever the opportunist, shared the leftover batch with half the village by pouring it into the community lemonade stand.
Within thirty minutes, reality had packed its bags and gone on vacation.
Children chased flying jellyfish made of whipped cream.
One woman roller-skated through the sky while singing about breakfast.
A chicken opened a hat store.
And someone—no one admitted who—dreamed up a sentient pile of laundry that demanded rent.
---
Milo tried to maintain order with a sign that read "Please Dream Responsibly" but it was immediately ignored by a group of toddlers dream-jumping through puddles of stardust jam.
Luca twirled into the shop wearing a cape made of pancakes. "I dreamed I was a syrup wizard! And now I am!"
He waved a ladle and conjured maple drizzle over a nearby cat.
The cat meowed once and levitated.
Milo's eye twitched. "I think we have a problem."
Alma was reading her Grandma Willow's old notebook. "It says here that too much Whimsyroot might cause dream layering… or spontaneous dream battles."
"Dream battles?"
Just then, two villagers crash-landed outside the shop, arguing.
"I'm the flying pirate from the Dream Isles!"
"No, I am!"
They both had cardboard wings and bed sheets as capes.
"This is spiraling," Milo muttered.
---
They called an emergency meeting at the town square, where the mayor was still trampoline-hopping.
"Dear citizens of Luminvale!" Milo shouted through a cone-shaped shell. "If your dreams involve mild chaos, please nap indoors!"
"We need a fix," Alma said. "A counter potion—maybe something with Reality Root or Mundanium Bark."
"I've got just the thing," Milo said, opening a locked drawer labeled "In Case of Accidental Fantasy Overload."
Inside was a dusty bottle called SnoozeSoothe. A potion designed to gently transition dreamers back to normal without causing magical whiplash or existential tea spills.
"Let's mist the square with this," Milo said. "It'll calm the dream effects gradually."
Luca nodded. "Before more dream golems show up."
"Golems?"
A thunderous rumble shook the cobblestones.
Everyone turned.
And saw a giant golem made entirely of books stomping toward them, shouting, "I AM THE FINAL EXAM!"
Alma blinked. "Oops. I might have dreamed that one."
---
What followed was the Great Daydream Wind-Down.
Milo climbed the bell tower and released SnoozeSoothe mist over the village. Soft sparkles rained down like a sleepy lullaby.
The trampoline faded. The llama king turned back into a regular (if smug) llama. Sword-fighting tulips bowed respectfully and returned to their vases.
The book golem yawned, mumbled something about deadlines, and dissolved into bookmarks.
People blinked awake mid-dance, mid-float, and mid-cookie-throw.
The town sighed in dreamy delight.
"Well," the mayor said, landing with one final bounce. "That was invigorating!"
"Next time," Milo said, "maybe we stick to potions that don't involve summoned pirate battles."
Alma hugged the SnoozeSoothe bottle. "Still… it was kind of magical, wasn't it?"
Luca lounged on a crate, now entirely back to normal except for syrup in his hair. "I dreamed I was a floating donut who solved mysteries. Best day ever."
---
That evening, as the stars blinked into the sky, the village returned to its cozy self.
Milo sat outside his shop with Luca and Alma, sipping calming tea and watching a pigeon try to moonwalk (a lingering dream effect, perhaps).
"You know," Milo said, "we accidentally created a potion that brought people's secret dreams to life."
"And also nearly created an interspecies monarchy," Luca added.
Alma grinned. "Next time, we should try dream-swap potions! Imagine waking up in someone else's dream!"
"Let's… maybe not."
The trio laughed.
Behind them, the llama sneezed sparkles and strutted off like it still ruled something.
And somewhere in Luminvale, a leftover bottle of Dream Booster Deluxe hummed quietly, waiting for the next sleepy spark of imagination.