There is no such thing as a new idea. This applies to dreams, wants, desires, and ambitions. People will try and sell them as fresh and innovative, they will even paint them with a glossy coat of genius, but since it has existed before; why pay the premium? Ideas depreciate as soon as they are conceived. A better method, a more prudent, and pragmatic method that recognizes the utter lack of anything new, is to buy something gently used.

Remember that middle-school friend who wanted to be a ballerina? Or that high-school loner who painted in bold angst-filled strokes of melancholy? Your friend is now working as an accountant, and the artist is working in advertising. What happened to their dreams?

The Harvester Goblin trolls between the pain, and self-doubt collecting discarded enthusiasm, dreams, and desires. He polishes, refurbishes, sews, and cleans these dusty knick-knacks and sells them to other interested parties — for a price.

All it costs is a slice of your dignity. For the goblin, It is a highly lucrative occupation. Turning a dream into a reality requires blood, talent, luck, perseverance, and skill. Instead of moving a dream into reality, however, these desires, ideas, and ambitions, often pull their owners into the dream itself; a place where anything seems possible with little to no effort. After a while, the Harvester Goblin will return and trade your ungrounded, neglected ambition for more adult mortgages, titles, and security. He will wink at your former naivety, and complement your grown-up perspective as he wheels them away.

If by chance, an ambition or dream becomes a reality, the Harvester Goblin will use it as leverage to sell others gently-used ideas. It matters very little to him whether you succeed or not. Somewhere, a dream is always for sale, while somebody else reaches desperately for its fulfillment. The Harvester Goblin trundles on. He is happy to be the middleman in the bankable cycle of what could be.