My ancestors lay entombed in the bed with me, their empty eye sockets staring at the ceiling. When I could stand it no longer I roused myself and struggled into the present. The weak light of a dying sun trickled into the room, enlightening the furniture but not the occupant.

I seized the moment and looked out of the window. The outside was an extension of the inside, a shared space for the absurdity that had enfolded me. The institutional stones of the building held me with their cold fingers, and I was both protected from myself and incarcerated against my will. I had done nothing to deserve this and in fact I had done nothing at all.

Where had I dragged my body to now? A smell of the sea blew in through the cracks in my reality. The bones of the structure creaked and groaned with decrepitude and sadness. I closed my eyes but that didn’t prevent me from seeing the ragged future beyond the window.

Toothy waves reared up and crashed on the boardwalk, then retreated, clutching at the rock. The sky filled with tears. I had returned to a place that I had never known, nor had ever really abandoned. As the darkness enclosed me I heard the rustling sounds of the night and the beating of my frail heart.