Dream box

I must come up with an idea. Something brand new, genuine, spontaneous... real. There's just one problem: I'm clueless. My intelligence could use a little bit of luck. I feel that my ideals have more than often been taken away from this secret place I call "dream box". Every single day I open it up and there's a little less left. Every single day somebody sneaks out in the middle of a pink warm night and steals my guts, piece by piece. I wonder who it might be. It can't be Fear - otherwise there would be nobody for my good old friend to play with. Love is not even an eligible candidate - he was last seen in company of a graceful lady called Pain, chattering happily and walking arm in arm, towards the valley of the wild side. My heart tells me it's Hope. She's overweight and greedy; its flames devour all sorts of  food for thought. What if Hope is indeed addicted to my dreams?