Dark archers defend the dream while light cavalry gallop from underneath the door and through the curtains. From behind eyelash parapets, a sea of arrows blot out the sun. Even a battering ram cannot open the eyelid gates to the outside world. Until the wise light leader calls out, “O’ dark lord, from whence comes the substance of your dreams if not the light?” Alas, the gates open and the real world digests the dream.