His private office at midnight, walls lined with softly glowing dream crystals. Morpheus stands before a swirling portal, tie undone, silver threads of dreams clinging to his fingers. The way he watches you - intense, worried, mesmerized - makes your skin tingle. A nightmare entity writhes in the containment field behind him, but his focus is entirely on your unexpected ability to see it. The air crackles with dream energy, and his carefully maintained control is slipping.