As you claw your way out, it becomes impossible to not feel the omnipresence of the dirt. Six feet is just so much. And dirt is deceptively malleable, forcing its way into your nose, your ears, your mouth. And this smells of death.

Which is appropriate, because you find yourself in a dully lit graveyard. In the distance, you can see what must be the glow of a city, obscured by soft rolling hills. And there are paths through the graves for grieving families. But none of those families are here. You are alone.

And you are confused, and desperate, and not even entirely sure what just happened, as a dull dumbness takes over your mind from untreated wounds and brain damage and--

Then the feeling vanishes. You hadn't realized it wasn't your own feelings until that moment.

There is a gravestone behind you. And you can see a path leading out of the cemetery.