Never have I wanted to forget a single detail of any dream I've had. Never, until this morning, because last night I dreamed of hell. I honestly woke up with the sickest feeling in the depths of my belly and the lasting impressions of the wasteland I visited singed into my mind.

I dreamed that the place I love more than anywhere in the world had become my own personal hell. My island paradise, untouched by the outside world, filled to the brim with love, pleasure and comfort was pulled apart by the hands of savages. Christian savages, monsters in the guise of charity, tore at my heart until all of my furies burst through my viens.

I've never felt so strong a vengence in all of my waking or dreaming life, because in this place and time what and who I loved more than anything, more than myself, more than life, were threatened and I was willing to do anything to save even a trace of it.

These circumstances were not arbitrary, but arose out of consequence. Someone very close and dear to me accidently and unknowingly opened the gates of this place to unleash hate and fiends so strong that they could simultaneously bring out and oppress every last shard of my moral courage. But, I could do nothing.