Although he wasn't having any real hallucinations, he could still see ghostly drifting forms in the darkness. In the outer fields of his vision, he saw ripples—very faint, and indigo in colour, as if his mind was trying to make some type of visual image to match his sensory perceptions or at least to ease the sense of darkness for him.
He quickly shook himself out of the pointless spiral in which he had found himself. He noticed that he couldn't feel his wrists. Not that they were there. It was more like he couldn't tell where his hands began from where they ended.
He noticed that he hadn't lost his sense of smell—far from it. He could smell the rich earth beneath him, the pine needles scattered around him, and the fresh, faint smell of flowers. He took a deep breath, enjoying the sensations. He stretched out his hands and grabbed a handful of dirt, enjoying the feel of it as it filtered through his hands.
