He lay there still, looking up into the darkness, watching the sounds and colors of the events and reasons that would hang in the air above him. Drifting close, pushing back... doing their little dance of pretending to matter. These just the fragments of a life, effortlessly bearing whatever ill will they could muster.
Finding some physical comfort in placing his hands behind his head, his comfort wouldn't breach the coarser realm; the images continued to taunt him. He tried to remember what it was to dream, he tried to remember what it was to forget... he had tried and tried for years up to now, and the years gave substance to those hovering thoughts. Knowing that he couldn't reach up to force a change, his hands remained where they were.
A few memories strangled their portions of his mind, and he looked up in a vain attempt to look away. The air shook as it gathered its strength, pulling the pieces together, pulling into one... and casting itself down on him, like hammer to anvil, he would be formed. Hope for sleep drifting further away, he could sense the words that formed with each blow... "there is no release."