I have dreamed of day that spilled through all shadows, until there was nothing but sunlight beaming through all the forgotten corners of the world. I have dreamed of night that never ended, we never to penetrate the darkness with any hope that dawn would ever approach this forsaken world. In the heights of my dreaming there were philosophies I never understood, and some I knew were meaningless, but a few I wondered how men could truly think such seraphic things. In the depths of my dreaming were a thousand brute urges, dark and thoughtless desires, and I cannot say that I resisted them all. If dreams reflect some part of us, this angel beast of a man that I am contends with himself: the light and dark are mostly mixed in me, but there are times when on wings I have soared to halo heights, and in dark I groped for degenerate things. I know which side I want to be on. But does the rest of me?