His eyes closed, the older man was in a world full of wonders. A world where... everyone loved him. Everyone cared for each other.

Where there was no judging another person.

Where there were sunflowers all around.

Dreamland.

His head facing the ceiling, he tossed and turned lightly, muttering a few words along the lines of 'Please be quiet' and 'I'm trying to sleep' as he heard some birds outside chirping.

But that made his own life a little bit better.

To know that this other world, this paradise, wasn't real.

And so he wouldn't be disappointed when he opened his lavender-hued eyes and ran a hand through his own hair, now awake.

... He was content at the moment, though. Hardly any worries. A son. A fiancee.

Everything was perfect in that small little house.

But outside of it... there was a monster. Eating every one alive.

That Monster was called memories. And this man hated that monster so. The memories that he had planted in all of those poor peoples minds.

All those citizens, who now hated the grand Mother Russia.

Tossing a little more, he laid one arm on a pillow, and another across his own stomach, still facing the ceiling.

Yet... he thought.

Memories are what you have earned, have made, have planted in another persons brain.

That is what makes you, you.