Disclaimer: This ficlet is based around "Castrolvalva," an episode of the BBC show "Doctor Who," written by Christopher H. Bidmead and involving the Fifth Doctor. No copyright infringement intended.
Dazed...and Confusion
Regeneration. Regeneration. Regeneration...
What is that word? What does it mean?
Must remember...must be something terribly important...
He was a prisoner within a cramped box - claustrophobic and completely devoid of color. If he closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough, he could see a parade of people's faces, though not one of them was distinct and instantly recognizable. They all wanted something. They were all looking for someone called "the Doctor." Who was he? Then...nothing but darkness.
Beads of nervous sweat dripped from his brow as he opened his eyes again. It was tiring work to keep fixated on a thought for any length of time. And it didn't appear to be helping him get out of this box.
Regeneration.
Must have something to do with...healing.
Healing. Heal...restore...restoration. Rebirth.
Must get well...
He tried his best to relax his mind. Instead of people's faces, warmth, light, a gentle silvery pinkness, and the smell of roses entered the box. Maybe this was part of the healing process. Or maybe it was all a dream...
When he opened his eyes again, the sweat on his face were gone despite the warmth he felt when he'd lost consciousness. Replacing it was a sense of calm and peace.
Maybe now I have enough in me to get out of here. So I can figure out what the hell is going on.
Summoning the remaining energy within him, he willed the box to open, its top panel sliding in response to his thoughts. Overhead, a blue sky with a few clouds. A gentle breeze blew lazily, scattering hair across his forehead. In the distance, a rustling of trees and the chirps of chattering birds. Things seemed idyllic - but were they?
THE END