But that was all.

I could never live out completely one full experience, one point of consciousness in time and space.

My dreams, if dreams they may be called, were rhymeless and reasonless.
Thus, as a sample of my rovings: in a single interval of fifteen minutes of subconsciousness I have crawled and bellowed in the slime of the primeval world and sat beside Haas--further and cleaved the twentieth century air in a gas-driven monoplane.

Awake, I remembered that I, Darrell Standing, in the flesh, during the year preceding my incarceration in San Quentin, had flown with Haas further over the Pacific at Santa Monica.

Awake, I did not remember the crawling and the bellowing in the ancient slime.