Anselm dreamt.
He dreamt of a being of ultimate monstrosity, a beast nothing worse than which could be imagined, manifesting as some dread horror might in the imagination of an artist commissioned to paint a fresco of Hell.
He screamed at the beast that it was not real.
-- I am the being nothing worse than which can be imagined, it laughed. If your dream of me were all that was, you could imagine