Okay.

The sleeper dreamed.
He was in a vast expanse of darkness, broken by brilliant flashes of color, llight and memories. The void expanded around him; he could not escape it. He called out, but no answer came. He was trapped alone.
How long he hung in that harsh place the sleeper could not say. He did not doze, but remained in a state of despair. There was no way out.
In time he became aware of a sound. Vague whispering echoed around in this previously silent place. There were two sets of them, and as they became louder he identified them. Smooth, coaxing, cultured voices, those of the knowledgeable, whispered tantalizing thoughts of rest to him. Their opponents, the rough and weathered voices of experience, sang a different song.
Get up. Come on. You can't stay there forever.
No, said the smooth voices. You are weary. Rest. Go when you are ready.
Come now, the others said urgently. But there was nowhere to go, and so the sleeper remained.
A time later, as the smooth voices whispered what they knew to him, the voices of experience intruded again.
Move. Now.
Let him stay, the learned ones urged. See, he rests.
We will awaken him, experience said grimly. What you will not do, we will.
Something in those voices motivated him. He began to drift again, but not aimlessly this time. He followed the rough voices, and they led him purposefully thorough the lightning-flecked void.
Winds that were and were not threatened to tear him apart. Unimagined colors that had no names flared and died around him, and places that might have existed once drifted by. Knowledge followed him, calling him back, urging him to give up.
A new voice joined those already assembled - the voice of despair. He tried to ignore it, and finally both Knowledge and Despair fell silent.
After a while Experience took over again. The sleeper had no control, but he trusted experience more than knowledge.
Stay with us. Follow or you are lost.
A pinprick of light, steady in a wall of darkness, glowed ahead. A new voice joined the others. It was his, and it reassured him.
Stand fast. There will be pain, but to turn back is to fail.
Failute was not dishonorable, but failure because of weakness was. The sleeper definitely would not turn back because of a little pain.
Good. Come with us.
He pushed forward towards that light, which grew bigger. The resistance grew stronger, like swimming against the current. Then the pain hit.
Waves of agony racked his body, shuddering him with their intensity. Oddly enough, they centered in his lower back, spreading out like malicious ripples. Then abruptly it faded to a dull ache. He had made it through.
The resistance lessened, and then increased again as he drew closer to the light. A shimmering wall of wrongness blocked his way - a wall made of lies and memories that were somehow wrong. Experience could not cover this, and Knowledge moved in.
Rest. A way will show. Wait.
You know nothing, a new voice said contemptuously. Knowledge was once again ousted, but not by Experience. By memories.
Real memories, not the altered ones in this wall.
This is made by those who would control you and have now left you for the dead, his memories whispered. We can (-)ter this wall, but you must stand firm. What might happen is unpredictable.
I will not falter, the sleeper replied, and immediately the memories attacked the wall. As each delusion and lie was destroyed, a sharp splinter of mental pain lanced through his mind. If he had been standing he would have fallen to his knees before the onslaught.
As the last one was ****tered he cried out, and his memories came rushing back to fill the void the wall had left.
The light grew stronger, filling his vision. Then he was rushing into his body, his mind clearer than it had been for weeks. The dull ache intensified, the heaviness of weary limbs returned, and the sensations of cold water running over him, sharp stones beneath him, and cool air above him, came back to him.
The sleeper awoke.

Weird chappie, I know, but it will be explained later. Then you'll understand