[Disney Reddit] The Longer You Work Here, the Less You Dream

Posted by u/MouseEarsMidnight — r/NoSleep

I’ve worked at Disney World for almost nine years.

Long enough to know the magic isn’t fake — it’s just… not the kind of magic you think it is.

I started as a ride operator on It’s a Small World, moved around to custodial, and now I’m a night-shift tech at one of the older parks (I won’t say which one — let’s just call it “The Kingdom”). Nights are quiet. We do safety checks, clean, fix animatronics, and listen to the eerie hum of the park after everyone’s gone.

A few weeks ago, during break, one of the older custodians — guy named Harold — asked me something weird.

“You been sleeping okay?”

I said yeah, mostly. Long shifts mess with you, but nothing crazy.

He just nodded and said, “Give it a few more years. You’ll stop dreaming.”

I laughed it off. Then he said, dead serious:

“It’s not that you don’t dream. It’s that something else dreams for you.”

The Missing Dreams

I didn’t notice it at first.

You don’t realize when your dreams stop — it’s like realizing you’ve stopped hearing background noise.

One day, I just… couldn’t remember the last time I’d dreamed.

No flashes of color, no nonsense scenes, no falling sensations. Just blackness. Sleep, then waking.

When I mentioned it in the breakroom, everyone got quiet.

Then one girl — Marcy — whispered, “Yeah. Happens to everyone after a while.”

Another guy, who’s been here 15 years, said he hasn’t dreamed since 2012.

He grinned when he said it, but his eyes looked hollow.

The Night Check

Two nights ago, I was doing a maintenance walk behind one of the older attractions. The kind that’s half underground, full of old wiring, and smells like chlorine and dust.

It was about 3 a.m. when I heard something faint over the intercom.

Not music — more like whispering.

At first, I thought it was radio interference. But then I realized it was singing.

A lullaby. Slow. Off-key.

“Go to sleep… little dreamer…”

The voice wasn’t coming from any speaker I could find. It was inside my headset.

When I took it off, the song kept going.

The “Dream Room”

Harold found me the next morning in the employee tunnels, sitting on a crate, staring into space. He said, “You heard it, didn’t you?”

He told me there’s a room somewhere under the park — no one’s sure where exactly — where the company keeps all the old servers and memory backups. Only a few people have access.

According to him, when you work here long enough, something about the park starts… pulling from you.

Your memories, your emotions, your dreams.

“They feed it into the park,” he said. “That’s why it feels alive. It’s dreaming through us.”

I laughed, but then he showed me something.

A photo on his phone — a blurry screenshot from a security feed, taken years ago.

Rows of sleeping employees, hooked up to machines.

Their eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids.

He said the file was titled: “Cast_DreamLoop_v2.”

Last Night

I fell asleep in the locker room after my shift.

I remember closing my eyes.

Then I opened them — and I was in the park.

Empty. Silent. Everything frozen.

But I wasn’t alone.

There were people standing around the rides — motionless, eyes closed, whispering in unison.

I recognized some of them.

Harold was there.

Marcy too.

They all turned toward me at the same time, eyes still shut.

And in my own voice, they said:

“You’re late for your shift.”

Then I woke up.

I called in sick tonight. I don’t think I’m going back.

But when I try to nap, I keep hearing that lullaby again, just under the edge of hearing.

And when I close my eyes, I see the castle — lights off, but still breathing.

I think it’s dreaming.

And I think it’s using me to do it.