I dreamed of a den dug deep in darkness, where the dust-covered dead, deprived of day, delight in a deluge of dance and drums. The din, disregarded by the dozy denizens of the dwellings above, dabbles with my disposition as I descend.
Definitely dead, you demand? Yes… yes, I dare deliberate that they were the departed. Dead on.
I determined doubly that this demented dancing was not to be disdained, as I divine some deeper devilry is afoot down in the depths, dithering ‘twixt dark and daylight.