Tropes Are Not Bad

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Dreamt this morning of your standard incredibly luxurious and decadent post-scarcity "crystal spires and togas" future society. Such is their decadence that the favorite pastime of many citizens is plotting and carrying out murders. The protagonist, as it were, of this little drama was someone who was notorious for his skill and elegance in this field, and who thus naturally had many jealous admirers trying to do him in. (At the end, their brains or personality engrams or whatever are installed in silver masks in a special trophy room, which applaud him for evading their machinations and getting them first.)

It was also of some amusement that I imagined composing this very entry at least a half dozen times, only to wake and find myself still pleasantly drowsing in my bed.