This scene reminded me of the story of Robison Crusoe. A man who was living in his paradise and thought he was in hell.

But judge you, if you can, that read my story, what a Surprise I must be in, when I was wak’d out of my Sleep by a Voice calling me by my Name several times, Robin, Robin, Robin Crusoe, poor Robin Crusoe, where are you Robin Crusoe? Where are you? Where have you been?

I was so dead asleep at first, being fatigu’d with rowing, or paddling, as it is call’d, the first part of the day, and with walking the latter part, that I did not wake thoroughly, but dosing between sleeping and waking, thought I dream’d that somebody spoke to me: But as the voice continu’d to repeat Robin Crusoe, Robin Crusoe, at last I began to wake more perfectly, and was at first dreadfully frighted, and started up in the utmost Consternation: But no sooner were my eyes open, but I saw my Poll sitting on the top of the hedge; and immediately knew that it was he that spoke to me; for just in such bemoaning language I had used to talk to him, and teach him; and he had learn’d it so perfectly, that he would sit upon my finger, and lay his bill close to my face, and cry, Poor Robin Crusoe, Where are you? Where have you been? How come you here? And such things as I had taught him.