August, Leticia and I are part of a group of pilgrims about to travel to our legendary promised land. According to our scripture, the trip is to be made by wading out into the ocean on a winding sand bar that will eventually lead us to a new island paradise. The water is freezing cold, but according to myth it will become warmer as we get closer to the promised land. We've all packed up our things on top of our heads and begin the trek. After a long time, we realize the water is not getting warmer. In fact, it is getting colder, and we fear for our lives as there is no paradise in sight. August and I halt the train and consult for a while. We decide to head for the nearest island and attempt to charter a ship. Our people follow us as we've somehow been elected as their leaders.
Upon arrival at the foreign island, we are greeted with a strange sight: thousands of people camped on the beach and all of them up and beckoning us closer, cheering and shouting. We're a little taken aback, but when we step onto the beach the people surround us with smiles and hugs, blessing and praising us. Some even bow down on the ground at our feet. Soon a group of what are obviously priests arrive and take our group up into the city. An impromptu parade begins as the natives follow and sing along the way. Once in town, the priests take August and I up into a large golden building and we finally get some answers. We had just fulfilled their prophecy, which foretold the coming of the chosen people from across the water on this very day; in addition, this group would be led by the chosen Two who would lead the island people to the promised land and then transform the world into Heaven on Earth by awakening all people inside the lucid dream of reality, obliterating the illusion of death and ressurecting all souls who had passed on.
August and I looked at each other, and the whole scene seemed very familiar. The priests placed large ivory bracelets on our arms and said I was Ganesh and August was something I can't remember. When they are through, we walk out onto a balcony and there are the citizens of the island, multitudes gathered to witness the birth of the "divine word". A cacophanous roar of voices and clapping goes up into the air as we are spotted. Again, the scene is strangely familiar. I seem to know that we are not supposed to address the crowd from this spot. I look around and to the far right I spy a tall, golden pyramidal tower with a sheer staircase climbing the front. I point it out to August and he nods. Dream ends.