Fuzzy. Foggy. Faded.
That place between waking and sleeping where the world fades in and out. Indistinct. Familiar and yet not.
Bright diffused light intrudes as sight returns before eyes are opened. Eyes open to soft white. No walls. No ceiling.
No floor either. Floating without sense of direction. Not knowing up or down. Left or right. Standing or lying. No sensation of covering or movement of air. Unmoving, yet not stale. Neither warm nor cold.
It is pleasant floating here. Almost.
Listening, but finding nothing to hear. No prevading dead radio white noise hum. Not even a heartbeat or rush of blood in the ears. Panic starts.
Where am I? What am I? Questions surface as the mind fights for a level of consciousness. Panic rises.