Artle reached over and threw his time blinker off its perch beside the bed. Unperturbed the suicidal time blinker imp continued to announce, "It is now four blinks past the previous dream. The porthole no longer has any vacancies. The next opening will happen in ten blinks, counting now..."
By this time Artle had regained enough of his senses to grab the wand from under his pillow and direct it at the imp. Unfortunately, everything he owned including the wand was, either broken, on its way to being broken, or hastily mended.
There was a loud bang.
Artle woke to find himself stuck to the ceiling looking down at his bed.
The ceiling groaned in protest.
When he regained consciousness for the second time, he was lying face down on the floor beside the bed. A whimper of pain escaped from his lips, while the imp announced, "It is now two blinks to the last dream. This is the final warning before the porthole closes." Artle groaned in reply. This was the second day in a row that he had missed the portholes. At this rate he would never eat.
There was a knock at the door. Artle barely had enough time to roll himself over before the door opened to reveal a goblin and a troll. He let out another groan.
"Ah, Mr Tobler, I see you've managed to get out of bed," sneered the goblin.
"Morning, Mr Le Tat."
Ignoring the greeting, the gobling continued, "It has come to my attention, Mr Tobler that you haven't paid this weeks rent. Where are my dreams?"
"Well you see, Mr Le Tat...funny story actually. You wouldn't believe the kind of week I've been hav - "
"Enough! You see Mr Tobler the agreement was for two dreams a night. Imagine our disappointment, Mr Tobler when Friday came and we didn't see or hear from you. Now just to make sure you understand the agreement, Mr Dizzlebick here will remind you."
He moved aside to reveal an angry looking troll, carrying an even angrier looking club.