The Eternal Drift, The Endless Wreck

The initial darkness transforms into an abyss of water. I no longer see the bathroom; only a deep blue, almost black, plunging downward without end. Gray shadows drift around me-perhaps predators, perhaps mere illusions. It doesn't matter. In the midst of that vast nothing, I hear the beating of my heart, a loud, stubborn echo I don't understand why it keeps insisting.
Then, the body disappears. I try to move my arms and legs, but they no longer obey me. They are no longer flesh; now they are thousands of loose threads, fine filaments of crystal that unfurl and float in the current. The pain dissolves. I feel nothing. I forget how to breathe. I try to scream, I try to name the sad beauty of this emptiness, but the words no longer emerge from me.
I float. I let myself drift.
The blue grows denser, darker, but it never becomes absolute black. It is only a constant flow.
I don't know if I have finally become a jellyfish, or if I am simply dreaming again tonight. Perhaps tomorrow I will wake up and the torment will continue. Or perhaps, even if only for a few moments, I have found the peace I have been searching for in this eternal shipwreck.