You wake up slowly on the white sand beneath you. You being to wonder and try to remember where you are, but to no avail. As you get up you recognize the beach and the shells upon it, it's the same as any other beach after all. Nonsense - Who are you? Images fill your mind, your identity flooding in.

"A man, with brown eyes," you think. 

You get up, and note the Sun setting. A smoggy and distant sight where your dreams dance around and flutter. What are they worth? Dimes? Nickles? Pennies? ... Let them go, they are of no use to you now, your fate has been thrust upon you. Your dreams disappear with the Sun as Night sets in and practicality hits. What will you drink? What will you eat? Where will you sleep? You look around and notice a shack, and you begin to hear voices. They are not speaking a language you understand, and perhaps more importantly they are angry and jarring. You slowly approach them with curiosity. You witness an old, frail man being attacked by beasts. A shovel is near you and a fire burns in your heart as your eyes focus on your target. You feel the shovel in your hand and the screams of mongrels in your ears. You are engulfed in their terror. The old man thanks you for your chivalry and invites you inside his home.