You sink deeper into the sheets. Time ticks on - ten minutes? An hour? It's hard to say. At length, though, your thoughts become fluid, and reality softens.
Thoughts drift in and out of your mind's eye as your sense of self erodes. You are aware of many selves, imaginary worlds born from your own consciousness. You are a wounded man in some faraway city, tormented by memories of better days. You are a man reborn, on another world in a distant future, your flesh redesigned until you are more weapon than man. You are an emissary in a parallel realm, the imperial seal on your chest, a hidden blade in your hand and the wisdom of murder in your mind.
These images confront you - but also specters far more mundane. You are a child again, but not the same child. Your home is different, your parents are different, and new memories flit about in your head. Suddenly, you fear that you are at risk of losing your own identity among these images.