I think this is for a novel/RPG project I was working on called The Last Island, but I can't remember how it fit into the theme of my original idea.
You think you are dreaming.
You think you are dreaming but you know you are not. Your last thought, before the darkness took you and your eyes closed for what you feared was the last time, was that you were going to die. And I know that you were on a boat. You were on a boat or a ship, and you were lost, sinking or being tossed about in a storm like so much sundered wood upon a violent ocean.
I know this, for this is how all of you lost souls come to the island.
Sometimes you come here one at a time, wandering in the woods or staggering confused along the coastline, afraid to enter the strange, unknown forest. Some of you come here in groups, regaining your wits on the beaches and finding yourself washed ashore with other people, all of you staring at the other’s outlandish clothing, strangely coloured skin or wild body paintings.
The first thing I always see, however, is the fear in the eyes.
It does not matter how large, strong or loud and threatening the person is, there is always that look of fear, of trepidation of the unknown, and mostly of confused, childlike timidity.
You will never stop being afraid.
This is The Last Island.
There is much to be afraid of.