And this morning my Lord told me of his most recent dream. And he said to me, “My dear scribe, last night as I slept, I dreamt. And in this dream I studied the cracks in the paint, on the wall of my room, here in the High Palace, where only I am permitted to walk, and to sleep, and to dream. And in these marks I searched for meaning, and for order, and some pattern which to me would grant an understanding, to allow me to comprehend the legacies of the past, and predict the nature of those things to come. But there was no meaning there, nor was there any pattern, for they were just cracks in the paint, and spoke of nothing but my neglect, of my duties of repair.”