The spell was wearing off. Not entirely useless - it would last long enough to kill someone or go through their pockets or question them a couple times about whatever it was they were dreaming of. But unless one was entering their dreams to control them more directly, it wasn't particularly useful for the dreams alone.

Daqiang straightened up and put his instrument away - tucking it into his qiankun sleeve - then folded his hands into his lap and waited.

When Demyx woke up, he'd find a very judgemental looking Daqiang staring down at him.