The Eternal Hoodlums of the Endless Quest

Will I not ever be rid of odd dreams? Surely the old existence that we led should not exact such a horrific price. And yet, these horrors are fascinating enough that one might enjoy them too much to be afeard.

For this was the night that I dreamt a voice told me, " 'Goldwork, Inkwork, Footwork'? How Saxon of you! Why not 'Glitterati, Literati, Flitterati'?"

At this horrendous linguistic sacrilege, I awoke in a cold sweat. But it was merely a hefty supper and a cramped foot that had given rise to such thoughts. I think.