Dark and Light

Floating in the dark, in the water. Or maybe in the nothingness, I wouldn't know. There seems to be nothing around me, for sure. No weight, no cold or warmth and certainly no light. Maybe this is what it feels like on the bottom of the ocean, for those pretty red flower worms. For them it might be all they know.
But I know more. I know of color and music. And it's all absent here. I can't even feel my own heart beating. Maybe I'm dead? But can the dead still think? For a moment the thought scares me, the possibility that I might drift here forever, in this vast nothingness that's not quite familiar and not quite strange, either. But I don't feel dead, I think. I know I'm still there somewhere, somehow. I turn and still there's nothing to show me where up or down is, no gravity of any kind. For a moment I'm almost nauseous. I want there to be a ground and a sky and something I can stand on. Some security. But there's none here, nothing but the blackness.
I stretch my hands out and try to feel and again, it just the nothingness as if I'm touching black air. I put one hand against my face, and I can still feel it. I can feel my lashes against my cheeks as I blink. My eyes are open, there's just nothing to see. I stretch all of myself out, trying to reach a surface that has to be there somewhere, some form of end to all this. Nothing goes on forever.
And maybe that's what it's been waiting for because suddenly there's a sound, a faint whisper just at the edge of what I can still hear "Tell me" it says, pleading in the softest whisper. I turn my head, trying to find the source, but the sound comes from everywhere. "Tell me"
Tell you what? I try to ask but I can't make a sound. My mouth opens, my lips form the words but I might as well be deaf to my own voice. The voice grows louder, more pleading, faster "Tell me, tell me, tell me"
I look up, or where I think up is and the black doesn't seem quite so massive in that direction. I move there, though I'm not sure how. It's not like I can swim, or walk. I just move. And the black grows lighter, fades into grey until I can see the faint outline of my own hands in front of me.
Light. This is where I want to go. I move towards that light, and realize that I'm also moving towards the voice. It's gone from pleading to begging now, clearly audible "Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me" again and again until it resonates around me. I would answer, if I only knew what to say, and how.
The light grows brighter around me. Daylight. I think, and try to move faster. And the voice shifts "Tell Me!" A demand, harsh, loud enough to make me wince and pause on my way to the surface. I'm not moving anymore, a bit shocked, but the light still brightens, from grey to clean white, until I have to turn my head and look away. That's not right, it shouldn't be that bright and the voice shouldn't be that loud, still growing louder, faster, repeating it's order like a broken record "Tell Me! Tell Me!"
So much brighter still, so bright, I curl into myself just to get away from it. The light hurts my eyes, burns my skin, so bright that it's not even entirely white anymore, but pale blue, like the core of a flame. Like the sky on fire that I can still see clearly through my closed eyelids. I extend my hand in front of me, trying to keep that light away, to shield me from it. The other hand presses against my ear. Oh god the voice hurts, so loud, like an airplane starting right inside my head. And fast enough that I can barely keep the words apart anymore "TellMeTEllMeTELlMETELLME!"
I scream, I try to scream out some answer, anything that might stop the voice, might stop the burning light. I can feel my skin blister under the light, burn the skin from my hand until I can't move it anymore, frozen in place by some strange fire that envelops me. It eats down my arm in sheer, blinding agony, brighter than the light inside my head, nerves exploding in my brain like little stars and I scream, I scream, and it's all silent, no sound.
"TELL ME!"
But I can't, I ca-