suburban hero

I wake up every morning at exactly the same time. I lay in bed for twenty-three minutes and seventeen point two seconds. Then I get up and I pull on my body armor. My chain mail. Breast plate. Shield. Girdle. I walk out my front door and my carriage awaits me, along with my faithful minions. Together we go to the battle field. The field is littered with the dreams of my lost comrades, never to be imagined again. I look up and I see the dragon. He is tall and bald and white. My breastplate is too low. The dragon is seething. Smoke is coming out of his ears. My minions do the speaking for me. That was my mistake. . . It only leads to more dreams being murdered. I look over and a helpless damsel is cowering in the corner. I ask "what is the matter?" She looks up and is silent, but I see into her eyes and see that there is nothing there. She has lost all hopes and dreams. She doesn't know what to do, where to go, or who to be. I know now, that my quest is to set free all the the lost and squandered dreams. I am Atticus Finch and I must fight the white dragon. What is making the white dragon take dreams? Why does nobody challenge him? Who will win in this epic battle?