Passion.
There was passion, no doubt about that. Even those who were forced to be mere objects knew the intensities and pain of their masters while they acted out their vital melodramas in the bowries of fantastic castles and gloriously colored landscapes of Arcadia. You remember it all so vividly, and yet… was it merely a dream? No. It cannot be, for while you may have dragged yourself, panting and bleeding through the thorns to the waking world, this is not as you remember. Things have changed. For the better? Probably not.
Your life is gone. Even if you were gone but a few minutes, you were irreversibly changed by your nightmare, and though those around you cannot see what has become of you, you were not missed. Your life was lived while you were gone. You were replaced.
You have nothing. Your family and friends, if they are even still here, don’t recognize you. You don’t even have your own body or life to live anymore. Everything is lost.
But there is still beauty. And passion. Indeed, these may be the only things you have left, things you brought with you from Arcadia…
And the things you found.