I am vain, proud and selfish, quick to anger and quick to fall in love.

Imagination is my vice; who needs drugs when there is art?

Though my past is better left forgotten, I've one redeeming quality: Hope.

Who am I?

-- I am dreaming of my dark angel

I, Dreamer, solemnly swear to review all the fics I read, regardless of the number of reviews,

its age, or anything else.

I have joined the review revolution.

There is a dark king who rules our dreams from a place of shadows and fantastic things. Older than humankind itself, he inhabits -- along with Destiny, Death, Destruction, Desire, Despair, and Delirium, his Endless sisters and brothers -- the realm of human consciousness. His powers are myth and nightmare -- inspirations, pleasures, and punishments manifested beneath the blanketing mist of sleep.

Surrender to him now.

Excerpt from Sandman: The Book of Dreams

There are only two worlds -- your world, which is the real world, and other worlds, the fantasy. Worlds like this are worlds of the human imagination: their reality, or lack of reality, is not important. What is important is that they are there. These worlds provide an alternative. Provide an escape. Provide a threat. Provide a dream, and power; provide refuge, and pain. They give your world meaning. They do not exist; and thus they are all that matters.

Excerpt from The Book of Magic

To understand virtue, we must first aqcuaint ourselves with Vice.

Annonymous

What's your pleasure?