Many people in the world believe in divine faith and divine power: a higher order: a God, whoever that may be-but there are many people who do not believe; but I do. Divine faith; I believe in it. It is the reason why I am here today. It is the reason why I didn't perish that night… It is the reason why I survived the sinking of the Titanic. Out of so many people, both strangers and colleagues, God chose me to be a survivor. But why? What makes me so special-if I am at all? I bet I could name those I know who may just as well be more of a better fit for such a miracle of survival than me. There's Captain Smith: he was just about to retire. He had a wife and a fourteen year old daughter. Mr. Thomas Andrews: he was a valued soul; so kind and friendly. He had a family too; a wife and a daughter, not even two years old yet. She would have no memory of her father. Everyone who has met Mr. Andrews would tell you that he was the best kind of person to have as a friend. Henry Wilde: the Chief Officer. A tall man, but a friendly one. He left behind four children. William Murdoch: the First Officer and a great Scottish friend, such a cheerful, friendly person. A man who was both responsible and loyal, with neither one of those traits outweighing the other... Now, the love of his life is permanently without him… James Moody: the Sixth Officer. Such a young man; only twenty-four. Even at his young age, he faced life's challenges one after another, but never lost his optimism. Now, he's dead. John Phillips: the senior wireless operator. At twenty-five, he was thought to be a kind and funny young man; now, he, too, is dead; and I am still alive; I survived. I survived the deathly freezing water, taking charge of about thirty men who were all gathered on an upturned collapsible lifeboat. Thirty-nine men all working in the engine room of Titanic, as well as the crew belonging to her six boiler rooms; and I am still here while many of them are dead. Men, who gave their life, both brave and scared, women, children, even animals-they all had their lives stripped away; but I am still here; I am still breathing. I don't have dreams when I sleep at night, but rather, I have nightmares. The duties that I carry out during my periods at sea leave me with not much spare time to slumber, and now because of Titanic, I run into nearly the same problem, except for the fact that I have plenty of time to sleep, but never seem to get more than a few hours, not to mention the fact that it will perhaps be a long while until I can rid myself of these nightmares, if I ever can… In honest, I don't think I'll ever rid myself of Titanic, or at least not completely. Every night my dreams take me to a different place, whether it be before the sinking, during, or after it. One night, I'm standing at the bridge, speaking softly with Captain Smith. That was just a few hours shy of the collision. The next night, I walked to the bridge wing with Mr. Murdoch, making chat about the missing binoculars and the weather. The next night, I'm in my cabin, about to fall asleep when I feel a shudder. It's as if  from the very moment I heard that I would be working on Titanic and up until each passing day, it's as if I'm reliving every moment every night. I hear the voices of all those who have been lost, both friends and unknown strangers. In honest, I don't know what else to say. I guess I should just start back from the beginning.