He came to us in a dream. A doctor. He had a machine much like what you call in this plane an ‘x-ray,’ and he used it on us. He found something. Benign or malignant or maybe both, we couldn’t say. He gave us a card, on it scrawled tangled and throbbing shapes. They were letters, we knew this instantly as it was our dream. They spelled out the name Sarcoptiform.