Urbane Bronze

In my dream the gentlemen wrung their gloved hands, conceding that none of this was good. I took another sip of tea, sat in the manner of Prufrock, and returned to my lone worrying after this brief distraction. Glancing in my direction, they stood and marched out, agreeing as they went that upon this world they would wreak such kinds of rampant chaos as took their fancy — preferring always those misdeeds which (they looked back at me again) would render the sights and sounds around me, the observer, less coherent, more possessed of a kind of gauzy haze which would render each object of my observation intangible. They set upon the world in this way with surprising alacrity given their dour complexions, and I awoke, unsure what to make of this dream, or of the inexplicable earth which greeted me upon my waking.