One of my favourite methods of escape was what amountsto gentle asphyxiation. I used a piece of cloth that I cut fromthe remnants of a blanket. I called it my dream rag. I wet itwith sea water so that it was soaked but not dripping. I laycomfortably on the tarpaulin and I placed the dream rag onmy face, fitting it to my features. I would fall into a daze, notdifficult for someone in such an advanced state of lethargy tobegin with. But the dream rag gave a special quality to mydaze. It must have been the way it restricted my air intake. Iwould be visited by the most extraordinary dreams, trances,visions, thoughts, sensations, remembrances. And time would begobbled up. When a twitch or a gasp disturbed me and therag fell away, I'd come to full consciousness, delighted to findthat time had slipped by. The dryness of the rag was partproof. But more than that was the feeling that things weredifferent, that the present moment was different from theprevious present moment.