People hover above me in the room—I hear a low murmur of conversation but can’t make out any of the words. Across the way curtains seem to flutter in an open window, flapping. I can’t move. I try to reach up with my right arm, but the message from my brain somehow won’t reach the muscles and tendons to make it move.
My vision fades, and I’m back inside my head floating like a diving bell in deep water—I still think about that book about that Frenchman.