wake up

Beeps and trills and dings and chirps broke through the staticky din ricocheting inside his skull - the sounds aren't totally uncommon to him but the biggest takeaway in the moment is that they are, right now, louder than they have ever been. Regarding a reference point for the sounds, areas of origin even, well, he simply had none. Perhaps these vaguely familiar sounds were truly foreign, and seeing as his brain is decidedly having a difficult time conceptualizing any series of potentials relating to origin point (the only image coming to mind is of an isolation tank placed in a boardwalk arcade - an attempt at silence in an otherwise chaotic and, maybe at times, melodic environment), he was inclined to agree. He had never stepped foot in a boardwalk arcade, much less on a boardwalk of that variety. Despite being free in the knowledge that he had never been to a place as this, the tones dancing in his head conjured blurry visuals of large(r) spherical masses of pixels eating small(er) pixel masses and chrome-covered claws descending into pits of foam. Once again, he had never seen anything of the sort - though, he thought, this seems like a rendering rather than eyesight.

From the static, the same static playing in a loop inside his skull, came a unique sound, a buzzing almost, no, precisely a buzzing! An alarm clock? Now, he thought, all of this is simply a dream and the solution to this disquiet is to simply snooze the alarm.

What IS an alarm clock? He questioned his own mind, his memory, and why is it that his stress levels were increasing relative to the volume of the buzzing. He felt like he needed to be somewhere while wishing he had nowhere to be.

The buzzing took on a violent quality as it went from an initially gentle buzz to a klaxon-like gather-the-troops-style of alarm if you will, accompanied by a series of hisses and spurts one would hear when observing a pipe or orifice of some kind as it vents steam. Compressed air escaping a small tapering hole in rubber. All's fine, he decided once realizing that he had no idea what any of these things, or concepts (he couldn't be sure), truly were. All this business of arcades, clocks, and vents becoming a bit too much.

What is skee-ball? Why is that coming to mind, he thought.

Still quite klaxon-like with its musings, the buzzing became louder, much louder, than the pings and blips whose presence quickly became overshadowed. He tried to roll over, to snooze the alarm as he searched his mind for answers and just a second of solitude. Unfortunately for him, his body decided to be uncooperative.

Is this sleep paralysis? No, it can't be, he'd determined, people still have control of their eyes while paralyzed - right?. He no matter how hard he tried could not open his eyelids.

What kind of rest is this? A state of calm with a side of hyper-awareness? Hyper is a stretch, he concluded, but he could swear he felt the hissing on his cheeks.

Warm like a blanket dried in the sun.

Wait. Now cold? Damp, a hazy day. He considered whether or not he had left the window open overnight.

The alarms continued blaring, louder now. The vents increased the dampness and chilliness.

His skin felt like it was wearing a raincoat that had reached its saturation limit, he thought.

Louder now. The hissing grew closer, he could perceive it viscerally now on his face. The scent of artificial fog with undertones of burned, charred meat stuck to the insides of his nose, the back of this throat.

Smells!? Surely not, he thought. Wake up, open your eyes, he pleaded to an empty skull. If only his eyelids felt as if they weren't cemented shut. No matter, open them!

"Good morning!"