[div style="borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; width: 520px; padding-bottom: 17px; overflow: stretch; font-family: verdana;"]The moon hung lightly over the island that night, peeking in curiously through the leafy canopy, speckling her fur with beams of light, swaying gently as she did, dozing in the hammock. Often she was finding it hard to sleep, never truly knowing where the day started and ended, living in this blurry darkness. It was getting a bit easier to manage, she often worked as much as she could, slept when she was tired, and repeated whenver she woke up. So sometimes she would sleep a bit earlier, before sunset, and rise before the sun did, and other times it was the opposite. The blind feline felt fine with it mostly, as long as she was putting in equal effort each day.

Tonight, she was sleeping in a bit later, curling up to the nearest spot she could lay in camp. Fischer had never taken the time to settle down in her own place, and especially now, without sight, getting a permanent spot to settle into was far too time consuming. Rather, feeling for a soft, warm, dry place to sleep was more efficient to her, so the hammock ended up being a regular bed. The sun had been particularly hot that day, and the netting of the bed seemed to cradle her sore muscles perfectly, lulling her to sleep every so gently. Her mind didn't shut down as fast as her body did though, and she was seized and thrown into a landscape she never thought she would see.

Or at least, not in this lifetime, not with her blindness. The dream took her to a world of sight again, laying, facing the shore of Paradis Island. The place was so familiar to her, her home, yet so different from how she remembered it looking, when she still had her sight. Her heart whelmed with joy. Everything was so much brighter now, the colors, jumping out at her, harmonizing like a mosiac of her dreams (quite literally). It was a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time, just this youthful, playful vigor, that sprang from the tips of her whiskers to the pads of her paws. She was bubbling over, laughing and spinning around, taking in the scenery behind her.

Facing her, was her vision. The perfect place for her, her home within the Typhoon. A small shack, with an asymmetrical roof. It wasn't too far from the shore, but it was nestled into the shade of the jungle perfectly- a spot nearby the center of camp that was left bare, that existed outside of her dreams. The structure was, funnily enough, this jolly yellow color, a warm tone, almost closer to an orange. It stuck out of the jungle like a sliced mango. The features of the shed were intricate but minimal, a rustic white wood for the windows and doors- and the doors, oh, they were her favorite part. The tall double doors were wide open, exposing the innards of the hut for her to see. A breeze swept lazily through, shrugging a hammock that hung from the length of the shed, high enough for her to see into it completely. On the back wall was a striped couch, with shelf space behind it, and a small table in front of it. On the left wall was a simple kitchenette, with accents to match the exterior of the cabin, and on the opposite wall was a neatly placed rug and pillow, a small space set up for praying. Beside it was small planks of wood coming from the wall, serving as a ladder for her to get up to the hammock. It was ... the perfect place for her.

But as she stepped towards it, she was ripped from her dream, into the real world, rolling out of her hammock and on to the lush sand. The Privateer nearly cried from the disturbance of her fantasy, now once again shrouded in darkness. She was just now starting to feel the burden of being blind ... how badly it truly made her feel. Incapable, of achieving what she truly wanted, for it would always be impossible to know if what she envisioned was a reality. But still, the dream stirred something in Fischer, this inspiration ... this hunger for the place she saw in her dreams.

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