Each night, he dreams of many happenings and lives. Though different, all are inside him, a part of his soul. They reside in his dreams, each alive and independent. The only thing he can do for their strange existence is write their stories, during the day, when they cease to be.

He is revered, a fatherly figure... His dreams are safe, loyal, submissive to his guidance. Unless they discover that his luxury of living may not be as unique and authoritative. The death of an author can mean everything.