There was an attempt to…float.

Most hobbies are about consciously filling the time and occupying the mind, but what if I tried something where the main objective was to do absolutely nothing ?  That’s got to be hard to fuck up, right?

The idea of a flotation tank intrigued me for a few reasons, but for all the supposed scientific health benefits, it was the “deep relaxation” effects of sensory deprivation that I was keen to try out for myself. Basically, it sounded like being on drugs without the drugs, which could be fun for a bit.

So in February 2018, I found myself in the reception of “Berkshire’s Only Dedicated Floatation Wellness Centre” sipping my complimentary tea (herbal, of course), and browsing the playlist options for the auditory portion of the floating experience. I picked “Binaural Beats” as the blurb mentioned something about boosting brain function, which would be a bonus. And frankly, any of the other options had to be better than “Rainforest Sounds”

I entered my private pod room, and in the centre sat my accommodation for the next hour.  It looked very much like a personal spacecraft. A purple light emanated from the roof. The FAQ on the website recommended that you wear nothing for the best experience, and who was I to argue with the experts?  I’m sure the rationale here was probably something symbolically womb-related, but I just thought it would be refreshing if everything got a chance to bob about a bit. (I am so, so sorry for any disturbing mental images that accompany the end of that last sentence). After a quick shower, it was time to step into the pod.

Despite being advertised as some of the “roomiest pods” in the UK, it was a description that could only have been written by an estate agent, as even for a short chap such as myself, the dimensions were on the wrong side of “cosy”. Any attempt to swing a cat would have resulted in a bruised, soggy, salty feline.

I had to admit, the water temperature was pleasantly warm and inviting. I closed down the lid, feeling like baby Superman about to depart from Krypton.  Suddenly, some random low-frequency throb of what I presume was binaural beats was coming from somewhere in the pod.  I lay in my watery disco from the future feeling like a bit of an idiot for a few minutes, and then the lights faded, turning my world pitch black.

At first, I was fine, if a little discombobulated.  It didn’t take too much time before I lost any sense of position; It wasn’t completely clear what was up, down, or sideways anymore. I tentatively wiggled a hand to where I thought the side of the tank was; Nothing.  It was all becoming a bit…weird. What felt like about 5 or 10 minutes in, it was time for a panic attack.  Some frantic jabbing at the control panel and the lights came back up. I was surprised, and a little bit relieved that I seemed to be in exactly the same place as when the lights first went out. This gave me enough confidence to have another go, and so I pressed the switch again and returned back into the depths of darkness.

Time passed and I went from calm, through to bored and then…nothingness? A vague sense of being aware but not quite present? I must have slipped into a definite period of “zoning out” as before I knew it, I was aware of the music fading and my pod getting slowly brighter. The hour was up!  Surely not? Where did the time go? Where did I go?

After a post-float tea (herbal again – what does a traveller to the subconscious dimension have to do to get a decent cup of coffee around here?) it was time to head back home. 

I have to admit for about an hour after, my senses felt like they were dialled up to 11; sounds and images just seemed..brighter. It’s difficult to describe the actual feeling without sounding like some sort of mystical twat, but things did feel…different. Maybe I had made a cosmic connection with the universe, or maybe I had banged my head on the side of the pod and swallowed too much salty water? I guess we will never know for sure. Modern life soon kicked in though, and it didn’t take too long to return to my normal levels of stress and anxiety. Once I figured out that being drunk in a bath during a power cut could recreate a similar experience, any thoughts of becoming a regular floater drifted away serenely, accompanied by binaural beats.