In my sleep, strange things happen around me. I don't know why; I've tried to escape it, but even out here in the wilderness my curse follows me. Sometimes the effect is horrible, but once in a blue moon something beautiful happens around me and, when I wake, I wish that I had been able to see it.
"Rolled round with goodly loam and cradled deep, These bone shanks will not wake immaculate To trumpet-toppling dawn of doomstruck day : They loll forever in colossal sleep; Nor can God's stern, shocked angels cry them up From their fond, final, infamous decay." (The Dead)