I slam into a wall of white noise.  Before the confusion breaks there’s a moment my limbs thrash independent of my body, as though suspended in thick air.  When the twitch comes, I feel it underneath my bones.  It’s unmistakeable.    

Opening my eyes for the first time stings.  The world is muddy blur.  I stagger, drunk, shifting in a formless state both familiar and bizarre, and suddenly, abruptly, I am standing free.  The universe clarifies and I am dumbstruck.  I know this isn’t a dream: dreams don’t feel like this. In dreams there’s an opaque quality that you aren’t fully aware of until you wake and the solidity of the real world settles like concrete around you.  Memories of the dream fade into surreal half moments.  You know your mind slipped somewhere else for a few hours, but there’s an obvious difference between being awake and asleep. 

This is nothing like that.