Lack of Meaning

I was aware that my face was wet. I could not comprehend why. Wanting to brush the wetness away, I tried to lift my hand. Something prevented it. With great difficulty I tilted my head to look at my arm. It was tied to the white arm of a chair. There was a tube sticking out of it. I wondered it that should concern me, but couldn't find the ability to care.
Time did not pass in the same way it always had. I was aware of every second, every moment, but it didn't mean anything. There was no day or night in the florescent white room. I did not sleep or wake. Just me, my breathing, my heart beat, and raw, vibrating energy.
A tremor racked my spine, making my head snap up in it's haloed restraint. A thin, rat faced specter grinned at me on the other side of a barrier. It was wrong, but I couldn't say why.
Half aware that my lips were moving of their own accord, I tried to pay attention to what they were trying to say. There were no words, to my knowledge I didn't have a voice, and I had to pay attention to the formation of the single word.
I was mouthing it over and over.
Another set of vibrations radiated from me and this time I actually whispered.
"Demaren..."