The Bowels of the Hospital

4.00 am, I think.
I open my eyes. Ceilings and corridors silently float past me.
What time is it?
There's a clock. Is that 4am?
 It's all disappearing again…

6.00 am.
I am in a kind of hospital room. A woman is beside me, wrapping my arm in something. Testing my blood pressure. Not a word. I turn my head to the right. Everything is disappearing again…

11.00 am.
The sun is streaming through the window onto my bed. A smiling face says hello and removes my blanket, saying I will get a fresh one in the evening. I do not protest.

I lie in bed for the next few hours, slowly re-entering the space-time dimension of planet earth.