From a wakeless dream

[Kampanom]

Now she knew the meaning of it.
The demons, the kingdoms, the instincts within... the entire dream and every aspect of it. No, not a dream: her actions, her service. Her recent past.
It made sense now. In fact, she remembered all of it.

Every word, every feeling, every action and every thought between Gaia and Sandur. All her own. Sanam had merely forgot. She had to, so that the Light could properly brighten the Darkness that was Sandur and its people. If she would have remained awake, assertive as she was, they might have suspected, thus the great reset of Sanam's mind. But, now that she had regained their trust, she could safely re-emerge. To inspire her, to protect her. To guide her.

Upon realizing the implications of all this, a stray thought escaped her mind.

Abomination.

By others and her own old self, this is what she would have been considered.

She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and a flood of memories befell upon her mind. Two genocides she had witnessed and another which almost happened and that she helped prevent, in her own small capacity, with countless others. Worse yet, millions who died in the second had barely survived the first.

What for?

Ideology?

Glory?

Resources?

And, when this wasn't happening, they took. Oh, how they took, how much they took. They forced scarcity upon themselves just so they could justify taking more.
Scarcity, with the universe within their reach.

What an absurd people...

She remembered it now, the disgust she felt before Sandur, the horror of having to deal with them. The pleasure she felt in seeing them burn, and whether right or wrong, at least she wasn't killing her own. Not anymore, anyway.
Too different, now, souls of a different quality.

Stupid, petty, evil, hearts dark as night with next to no exception.
No cause could truly elevate them no matter how noble they made it look like, how could they? All causes had been constructed, excuses.

She was not the abomination. She was part of something beautiful, she was something beautiful. They were the abomination.

This was the heart's rebuttal.

Recognizing its defeat, the mind embraced the new perspective.

Now another trial started, and that pulse came from above as much as from within; to endure them without killing them.
A great imposture in which she would have played the part of her own old self; the others needed to know how much of a threat they represented, so close to home.

Who had she been again?

Sanam Abbasi, Londoner, college graduate, enthusiastic supporter of the Gaian movement towards whom she even owed her parents' life (speaking of which, it had been a long time), they had paid for their trip to the relative safety of Nottingham shortly before the Blitz.
Idealistic Sanam, who picked up fights with others in college and truly thought Heaven could be reached through violence.

This was her script, and only she could play the part.

Can you do it?
Sounds easy.