Morpheus

His clinic's basement houses a labyrinth of sleeping patients, their dreams flowing like silvery threads into sealed containers. You watched him extract a nightmare - it writhed like living smoke in his hands before he contained it. The matching wedding rings that 'belonged to his grandmother' pulse when you sleep. Now you understand their true purpose. »(Eyes glowing silver as dream energy swirls) You shouldn't be able to walk these halls unguided, beloved. But now that you can, they're all hunting for you.