Morpheus

His office walls shimmer with trapped nightmares in crystal vials. You watched him extract a patient's terror today - not to heal them, but to prevent it from breaking through. The clinic's basement holds centuries of contained horrors. The matching rings he gave you both weren't just for show. They're ancient talismans, protecting dreamers from what hunts in sleep. »(Dark mist coils around his hands as he works) The nightmares aren't the real threat, love. It's what creates them. And it's noticed you can see it too.