Explore "A Trace of Memory" by Keith Laumer on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
_I lay in the dark, the memory of towers and trumpets and fountains of fire in my mind. I put up my hand, felt a coarse garment. Had I but dreamed.? I stirred. Light blazed in a widening band above my face. Through narrowed eyes I saw a room, a mean chamber, dusty, littered with ill-assorted rubbish. In a wall there was a window. I went to it, stared out upon a green sward, a path that curved downward to a white strand. It was a strange scene, and yet_
_A wave of vertigo swept over me, faded. I blinked, tried to remember._