The Deep Sea Diver's Syndrome (2016) - Plot & Excerpts
He jerked instinctively, tossing them off. He hated coming back to reality under a shroud; it always made him feel like he’d woken from being buried alive only to slam his head against a coffin lid firmly nailed shut. All he managed to emit—mouth gaping, neck muscles distended with effort—was a barely audible wail. He milled his arms and legs about in the middle of the bed in something like the crude breaststroke of a drowning man trying desperately to stay above water. Swim! cried a voice somewhere deep in his head. Swim or you’ll drown! Awash in sweat, he tossed sheets and pillows around, dreading the cramps that might seize him any second now. He didn’t want to drown, to sink like a rock into the mattress whose supple depths terrified him. His eyelids were stuck shut as if sewn to his cheeks with the catgut of his lashes. He had to use his fingers to pry them open. His vision was still blurry, and he made out shapes in the room around him only through a flickering fog. The uniformly blue walls, the furniture and sheets of the same color, all contributed to an atmosphere of deep sea depths, and for a moment he thought he was still down below … he was beached on his back, sideways across the bed, legs hanging off the edge, still kicking weakly, from reflex.
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