This period of unconsciousness appeared to only be a short-lasting one. Underneath my throbbing skull, I could detect the presence of a rubbery, almost quicksand-like surface.
My suddenly flexing muscles caused my neck to tingle as I tried to lean further into this implantation my body had moulded around any exposed limb that lay spreadeagled around me.
They were numb, and even in my debilitated state, detectably still very sleepy. For a time, I felt incapable of opening my eyes.
Yet, once my muscles were strong enough to open them, it was only a plain white surface that hovered above me. I wanted to move, but my body remained stubborn.
It may have been my laziness, or potentially that natural instinctive fear of what I may be forced to gape upon once I decided to turn my head in either direction.
It was the gentle twitch of an index finger that convinced me to regain control of my disengaged body. I found myself able to sit up. My muscles were begging for further slumber as I did so.
And who wasn't to say that they were feeling lifeless after being awakened from a brief mock-up of what laid in wait for both of us upon true expiration.
The darkness and perspiring humidity were immediately recognisable similarities to my apartment once I had managed to focus my mind on further presences aside from my own.
Except, it presently became apparent that what may before have appeared as friendly enclosures to me, had in fact, compacted in against me.
That same material to which I found myself sunken into was the fleshly coverings of these identical surfaces. They stood tall, reaching over my head and sealing the darkness in with me.
My vision eventually outlined a monolith shape straight ahead, which at first only caught my curiosity.
But soon enough answered the lingering thought as to how I might have entered this new environment, to start with. It introduced itself as the barrier to my cage.
Since my mind was only running a blank tape over and over, only the facts of the present situation mattered to me. After all, somebody had taken the time to imprison me in this cell.
I began to push my weight against the door, following the eventual return of my balance. In sync with the beat of my heart, I threw myself against it until my shoulder told me no more.
It was robust, firmly locked in place; I wasn't going anywhere. My body was still in too feeble a state.
I backed away from the door, hugging the soft material coating the wall behind me. That was when I finally observed the narrow vision panel, roughly level with my eyes built into the steel.
Using the small amount of strength I had regained, I attempted to slide it open, desperate to evaluate my surroundings outside my limited perimeter.
Just knowing the nature of the place I was being confined to might repose my anxiety ever so, lightly.
However, after a short attempt, I came to accept; that my efforts were only going to be futile.
My hands felt they were very near bleeding, as the metal had begun to dig into my skin the harder I'd pushed.
Suddenly, I remembered the invaluable item that had assisted in bringing me wherever I was in the first place. I only hoped it had remained somewhere on my person.
Although I knew that to be an improbable chance seeing as I was standing barefoot with only a cotton vest and an old pair of jeans. I hurriedly checked any available pocket for my lighter.
Momentarily, what was initially dreaded doubt swiftly turned to incredulity when I felt the outline of the thin plastic item in my back pocket. Somehow I'd managed to keep hold of it.
That familiar burst of orange sparks shot from the flint and landed onto my hand.
The corner of my mouth twitched when I felt a gentle sting, hoping to refrain from that same frown that always attempted to form onto my face whenever I received a burn on my tender skin.
As always, it took a few flicks of the flint to successfully ignite into a small flame.
The triumphant sensation of ecstatic relief can be felt, for even the most minute of achievements. That being one; is trapped in an unpredictable situation with no clear outcome.
Although, I did indeed now have a faint light source.
Upon the eventual fixation as to how beneficial it truly was,
the flame itself had the appearance of a solitary star floating silently in the centre of vast obscurity: looking as inconspicuous as a microcosm.
I waved the unlikely torch about the cell to gather a better perception of my current situation.
From whatever I could see, the cell to which I had been sealed within appeared fit to hold the most psychotic maniac in England. And within the depths of the most secure asylum.
Yet, I managed to sweep all four walls surrounding me a good few times before my light was cast upon the only out of place presence in the room apart from mine.
The subdued glow from my lighter had climbed that little bit closer to the ceiling and unveiled a written text presented on the wall a few inches above my head.
The letters had been inscribed on the softened surface with a black marker pen.
Therefore, I hovered my light close to the wall, underlining the words. Carefully and slowly, I recited in a whisper what had likely been left for me.
'Panic will make death child's play,
Yet those who think the other way,
Will keep their end at bay.'
Were these three lines I was reading some kind of concealed instruction to tell me what to do next?
As hard as I tried, I could not reach any plausible solution over the potential guidance this short poem was contributing towards my escape.
Pacing up and down the cell, I repeated the words relentlessly in my head, knowing that there had to be a key to the puzzle.
Somebody must have known I would regain my senses, depending on me becoming gravely paranoid once I realised what they had done. Who wasn't to say they were watching my every move?
Soon enough, my passion to understand what was being asked of me snuffed out. I found myself retreating to a corner when the weight of failure began to hurt my shoulders.
With my elbows leant firmly against my knees, my head sank to stare into the darkness.
Even though I wasn't a sufferer, I could feel the fundamental effects of claustrophobia beginning to take place. All this alongside a gurgling bout of nausea in my stomach.
I was desperate for even the view panel to slide open, so I could ultimately gaze into the eyes of my captor. It felt as though the walls were going to close in on me.
That my oxygen was in due course going to run thin, and I would start hallucinating. I wanted freedom from this box.
I shut my eyes tightly and murmured an incessant plea for anybody to feel mercy towards me.
It was like a clamouring chant that refused to leave me alone, no matter whatever image or sound I attempted to focus on otherwise.
Then, all of a sudden, something that bit louder interrupted my torture. The sound of a key, turning in a lock. My neck cracked from the speed my head shot up.
I remained in my corner as any locks on the door continued to be released. At last, I would get a glimpse at the person who had shut me in here.
When what I believed to be the last lock clicked, I was imminently caught off guard at the same time from a jolt of the door and a crack of light scalding my retinas.
It grew brighter and more dazzling faster than I could prepare myself.
I was anticipating the entry of my captor to block some of the light from my view: then presenting me only their silhouette to stare at. That or even just their voice.
However, there was nothing. I continued to rub my eyes as briskly as I could; I refused to be left feeling entirely vulnerable.
Yet, once my eyes managed to readjust themselves to the instantaneous atmospheric change, I managed to get a glimpse of what laid beyond the door.
I saw more cell doors spread out neatly down a very long corridor.
There was a wheelchair sitting patiently by the wall, and what appeared to be a doctor's PPE clothing jettisoned around on the floor.
I blinked when one of the LED lights embedded in the suspended ceiling intermittently flickered on and off.
The length of this corridor extended to such a degree that I was unable to see any termination.
It could very near give the semblance that it would be possible to lose the grip of gravity and fall to my death, like a deep shaft.
Even with my balance still feeling: relatively teetering. I was soon out of my cell, priming myself for any more unexpected surprises my captor might decide to throw at me.
I attempted to produce any; approaching occurrences in my mind to prepare myself for any required drastic action or decisions. My guard stayed firm as I took every step forwards.
Whilst I was eager to find myself an exit to this asylum unit, something else managed to catch my attention the further I got down the corridor.
Those regular wall clocks you would see perched within any standard building were hung up ceaselessly along my walk through the ward.
There appeared to be a new one on either side of me with every foot I covered. Only there was an uncanny aspect of these clocks.
Every different one I decided to look at had an unevenness to their regular circular shape.
That shape, appearing to remould itself while I was still glancing at them, like an optical illusion. Additionally, each one told me a different time.
Except that whatever time was set would show a new one, even when I looked back at a clock I had read, scarcely seconds before.
Occasionally I would pass impregnable security gates in between the thick cell doors which had contained me.
Seeing that these gates sealed off adjacent corridors, I curiously joggled the odd one to see if my escape could be advanced with another route.
They were all locked solidly in place.
Yet, it was when I took my hands off the bars of my final attempted diversion that the bars began to bend into a wavy, zigzagged shape.