"I'm not attempting to," said Solomon, more seriously than he had nearly any other moment except when half out of his head with craving. He held up his hand without actively touching the ghosts, but enough to acknowledge their presence. "I am aware that I threatened them. Consider this a peace-offering, as it were, if not for your benefit than for theirs."

He dropped his hand and looked at Bakura. "And that is exactly what I would have, if you agreed. My magic is a representative of Death, and the location I have chosen is one of Dreaming. I have not died once, so my blood should suffice as a representative of Life. But I need someone to open the khajbit."

To say nothing of Bakura himself being a walking, talking representation of Life, Death and Dreaming. The man had died multiple times, yet still lived; and with him were the ghosts of his kin, which one could argue might well be something of the Dreaming themselves.