The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, there's this small, really worn-out sailboat, just drifting in the middle of a still lake, like, no ripples on the water or anything... The air's super calm and heavy with the scent of blooming lily pads. A blurry figure, I guess it's me, is sitting at the boat's tiller, just kinda slumped over, like I'm exhausted or something... The sail itself somehow has part of an ancient Babylonian Ishtar Gate seamlessly integrated into its fabric, just billowing out in the breeze.