You wonder instead if the man on the table, during your period of momentary oblivion, or the bird or cat or gusts of wind above, if one or more have not snuck or crawled or blown themselves down and around you, manipulating and arranging you for reasons of their own, or none, or for play, or for no purpose. Perhaps you were dealt with in some physical manner, brushed-down or poked-at or simply even looked upon and unable to return that look, for a time now repressed.
You wonder if your current disposition would not instead then be a kind of clue to your situation or the intents of your cohabitator, call them that. You wonder if he, or they or it, has expectations of you, has suspicions of what you might be and what your intent here is. Do you have one? Perhaps they seek to thwart or help you, or are simply curious as to your successes. Perhaps they are mischievous or malevolent and seek to place you into physical disarray purely for the pleasure of watching your reactions against it. You wonder if others also have expectations of you, whether related to your presence here or otherwise, perhaps even unaware of your location.
Now you are not hot but cold, as time continues to shift in odour from that of your starting point, or at least from that point at which you started keeping track. Regardless, you move ever further away from them or that place and from whatever hope you might have for picking up a context for your situation. You hope that some property of the environment might still be present wherever you began which would be capable of reconnecting the thread of your experience here with that which came before. You feel the presence of that context as you might an immediately post-dreaming weight, as a not-directly recalled sense of interactions and movements and possible-faces. You believe that you could bring them more fully to mind if only you were given a moment, and yet they fade ever further into tenuousness. It is as though they were not your experiences at all but something glanced at which was never yours to see. You worry that you might be so far now from where you were or should be that you will never again be able to reconstruct your prior life.
Perhaps all of memory is so-associative, at least for you. Perhaps it is impossible for you ever to recall any fact unless you can crystallise it around some experience or sensation which is sufficiently close in form or manner to the last element in that stack or heap or thread. Memory may be less a physical fact of a subcomponent of your body or brain than it is some set of instructions for recreating any given context which represents your past, constructed anew in each attempt at recall from the set of materials at hand. Perhaps, for whatever reason, the situation you now find yourself within is so different or unexpected that the process cannot properly be applied to it. If you could only escape soon then surely the rediscovery of your past would be a straightforward matter, one involving successive trial and error in different places and times. Somewhere you would surely find an appropriate structure, the correct base mineral upon which your particular inner set of solvents and etchers and other machineries can be applied.
Or might it be possible to stumble into some ersatz, some saccharine location or event, such that the past there-rebuilt would be different from any which actually occurred and yet still feel correct in your mind? It might be something distinct in its shape or texture but otherwise accomplishing the same task, leading to a memory, call it that, radically divergent from your actual experience yet impossible for you to discover. In your future interactions with others, some who might know the truth of matters, or who had observed or partaken in them, they may be able to perceive that this was the case. Or they may suspect nothing of your change and so be offended or disgusted by you, by your actions and behaviour driven from a falsity which is yet close enough to be believable, that it might be as though you are some terrible enemy revealed to them and all your past companionship a lie. You might be unleashed, suitably changed, as one might a weapon, back into that shared but now incompatible society and future.