She sits back on her heels, realizes she's naked, and opens her eyes. Everything's confusingly strange, even though it shouldn't be. There's a moment of resistance as if her eyelids are sealed — then they respond. It all feels strangely familiar to her, like waking up again inside a house she grew up in and moved away from years ago.

[…]

Amber shakes her head, cautiously, feeling the drag of damp hair, the faint caress of a breeze — she reaches out with another sense and tries to grab hold of reality, but it slithers away, intransigent and unembedded. Everything around her is so solid and immutable that, for a moment, she feels a stab of claustrophobic panic: Help! I'm trapped in the real universe!