If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you might ask is where am I from, and what my life was like, and how I ended up being who I am today, and all the future dreams I wanted. But I don’t feel like getting into it, you’ll never understand. It is the dawn of the 17th century. After the rise of the revolution, total chaos ascends in France. This once peaceful nation is surrounded by enemies on all sides. The inexperienced government, find themselves without a single friend. Europe is a powder keg waiting to explode in a war that will engulf the entire continent. The old ways were drowned in a tide of blood. Men live a simple life when others have a fire that threatens to engulf the world. A man could be whatever he wanted, if he could weather the storm. In 1796, when the last days were upon me, the ugly things of little values of existence began to drive me to madness. Like small droplets of water that torturers let fall ceaselessly upon their victims head, I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep. In my dreams I found little of the beauty I had vainly sought in life, and wandered through old gardens and captivating woods. Once when the wind was soft and scented with lilac and gooseberries I heard a calling, and sailed endlessly and languorously under strange stars.Once when the rain fell I trekked down a sunless stream under the earth till I reached another world of purple twilight, raven rocks, and undying roses.And once I walked through a golden door that led to ruins and shady woods, and ended in a wall with forested vines.Times I trekked through that door, and longer and longer would I pause in the half light where the giant trees squirmed and twisted grotesquely, and the grey ground stretched damply from trunk to trunk, sometimes disclosing the mould stained stones of buried temples, and the goal that always fancies me was the might of the forested vine grown wall. After a while, the days of walking became less bearable. Their greyness and sameness remained. I would often drift through the door and the shadowy woods, and question how I might take them for my eternal place. Taking them with me so that I no longer need to crawl back to a dull world stript of colors and interests. And as I look upon the wall, I felt beyond it lay my dreams. A dream which, once entered, there would be no turning back.So every night I sleep, I strive to find a hidden door in the forested vines wall. And I would tell myself that the realm beyond the wall was not more lasting merely, but more lovely and radiant as well. I would tell myself how great it is to live there and how its not as grey and same as the commonplace. Then one night in the dream city of Novigrad I found a hole filled with thoughts by dream mages who dwelt in the city many years before, who were too smart to be born into the waking world. They were so intellectual thay they were burnt on the stake. There were many things that are concerning the world of dreams, and among it was the golden door and a high wall forested with vines. When I saw this, I knew something had to be done. I knew what effect it had on me. I knew that it had haunted the scenes I touched, and would follow along in the hole.Some of the dream mages wrote an abundant amount of notes of the wonders beyond the wall, but some told the horrors. I knew which not to believe and I knew the consequences and benefits of both, but longed more to cross into the ever unknown land. The doubt and secrecy that lures me, and no new horror can be more terrible than the daily torture of the commonwealth. So when I learned of the fluid that would unlock the hidden door and drive me through, I didn’t hesitate and took it the next awakening.The night I drank the fluid. I had a sense of easiness, I glided through the golden door and the shady woods and when I arrived to the wall I saw a big hole glowing beyond me, like something magical and something special is about to happen. I gilded on, expecting the rich and glories of the land. But as the hole became larger and larger the dream pushed me through, I knew all was at an end. For in that realm was neither land or sea but a white void. Happier than I had ever hoped for, I dissolved into the infinity of obliving from which life had called me for one brief and desolate hour.