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I dreamed once that I was stranded on a planet of the whitest sand, and the sky was white. That's all there was — me, spilling drifts of white sand as wide as oceans, and a burning white sky. I was alone. And small. After days of wandering, I could smell my own rot, and I knew I'd die in these drifts of white under a hot sky, and I prayed for shade, and eventually it came. And it had a voice and a name. "Come," Darkness said, "come with me." But I was weak, I was rotting, I couldn't rise to my knees. "Darkness," I said, "take my hand. Take me away from this place." And Darkness did.