You dream that you are falling. Perhaps you have tripped, or you fail to see a pit before you. No matter, you are falling now; you can see the ground approaching, and as it does, faster and faster, time speeds up, for a nanosecond–yes, one nanosecond, space shrinks and your breath pounds: the distance between you and the ground halves; space gushes through your heart and halves again–your hands, your throat–then halves again, while time accelerates and your blood bursts–
Then, you wake up.
Suppose you didn’t wake up.
Suppose you stayed suspended in that fear.
Suppose you stayed suspended in that fear for a long, long time.
That is what it felt like when my illness was at its worst.