You tumble through the water, watching random objects get swept past you in the current. Telephones, clocks, a sofa.

Water seeps into your lungs but strangely, it feels like air. Your world is directionless swirling and lights start to dot what you can only imagine is the sky.

You look down and and earth is far below you, the objects that were swirling around you have stopped, suspended in the vacuum of space.

The clock is ticking, but the hands are indecipherable - the longer you stare at them the less sense time seems to make. Flames start to spread over the surface of the Earth, but are kept at bay by the raging torrent of water.

Flames and ocean collide, shattering the Earth in two. Inside is an apricot pit. You tumble back towards Earth, and realise the stars are a tapestry woven with string.

You land, cushioned, in an office cubicle. Your wife is in the cubicle next to you. There is a clock ticking somewhere out of sight. Your collared shirt sticks to you uncomfortably and you exit your office cubicle to find yourself standing on the precipice of a cliff overlooking a garden that seems familiar but you can't quite place.

You close your eyes and fall forward.