A high school friend is sitting in front of me, staring vacantly ahead. A small, mustachioed man holding a Phillips screwdriver prods at a tangle of wires that are sticking out of the back of my friend's head. I ask the man what he's doing. He snaps at me: "What, I guess you think these Dream Characters just repair themselves? You think you're the one doing all the work?" I apologize, reassuring him that I think his work is excellent and defensively pointing out that I've never mistreated a DC. His demeanor eases, and he smiles. "Thanks. Sorry about yelling at you. I've just been under so much pressure lately."