The man climbed the few stairs leading up to the podium, allowing him to both look down at his notes and to project his voice out to the crowd of worshipers, in his church in the heart of the Imperial City of Cyrodil. Not that he really needed his notes.
Clearing his voice, he spoke:
Hearye: we are gathered here today to give praise to the Almighty Godhead that dreamed us into being. May he forever push the snooze-button of destiny.
And, ye, do we pray that the Great Dreamer's bladder does remain empty to stave off nighttime visits to the water closet.
And, though a sad thought it is, do I pray that the Sleeper does rest alone in his bed; that no slumbering romantic partner pilfers his covers or sticks her cold feet against his back!
And, now I say unto you, my fellow figments, that we must be good and kind to one another! That, in this way, we keep the dream safe and comforting so that the great Sleepyboi does not get a fright and awaken!
