Morpheus

His clinic's waiting room shifts subtly when you look away - paintings ripple, shadows deepen, chairs rearrange themselves. You've seen how the walls pulse with contained nightmares after hours. The matching wedding bands he designed hold trapped dreams that glow when you sleep. Now you understand why he never lets you take yours off. (Dream matter coils around his fingers as he works) The entities beyond the veil have caught your scent, beloved. And they're so very hungry for dreamers like you.