There was a distinct impression, too, of a momentous conversation, of a name--he could not tell what name--that was subsequently to recur, of some queer long-forgotten sensation of vein and muscle, of a feeling of vast hopeless effort, the effort of a man near drowning in darkness.

Then came a panorama of dazzling unstable confluent scenes....
Graham became aware that his eyes were open and regarding some unfamiliar thing.
It was something white, the edge of something, a frame of wood.

He moved his head slightly, following the contour of this shape.

It went up beyond the top of his eyes.

He tried to think where he might be.