Denethor jerks awake in a cold sweat, clutching at his chainmaille pajama shirt. His dark eyes dart around the room anxiously. Then, having decided that nothing is amiss, he lies back down again, still somewhat disturbed.

Denethor:
I dreamed I met a dirty ranger,
a most distasteful man
He had that look you very rarely find:
the filthy, grungy kind
I asked him to say what had happened
Why he looked so wan
I asked again,
he never said a word
Ignoring his steward
And next, the room was full of toxic carcinogens
They seemed to sedate this man
He fell on me and then,
my pillow was gone again
Then I saw an elf-maid and a woman vying for this man
And then I watched them calling me bad names
And leaving me in flames.

Denethor resolves he will eat no more sugar before bed…