Returning to madness

'But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
'Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: 'we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'
'How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
'You must be,' said the Cat, 'or you wouldn't have come here.'

That post was in the drafts when I came to. Nothing tripped. None of the tests. No. Stop. Focus.
Remember how the story goes. Start at the beginning. Where is it? Where does the story start?
Of course. The recording. I remember it. Waking up. Sleep was restful. Incredibly so. I was... alarmed. Shouldn't have slept that long. Much too long. But there weren't any dreams I could remember. But no signs of any wandering about. No signs. None of my tests, none of the logs. No indicator of anything wrong. There was a thunderclap, lightning out the window, the rush of air before the rain falls. And then... petrichor. The smell of dirt after rain. Nothing to show for the lost time except numbers on a clock and a pleasant smell.

So I'm fine. No need to worry.

Hamlet. Hamlet played mad so that no one would realize he was absurdly sane, plotting revenge. Reverse Hamlet? Play sane so that no one realizes you're completely mad.

Maybe some of it will stick.