From 2020 to 2022, platforms like TikTok, YouTube, and itch.io exploded with quarantine-core media:
She woke in a chair. A reclining chair, like a dentist’s, but covered in silver tape and wired to a machine that blinked in slow, rhythmic pulses. Electrodes on her temples. A cold gel on her wrists. And in front of her, a screen showing her own brain waves—alpha, beta, theta—dancing like frightened birds. Assylum 20 06 11 Leah Winters Quarantine Dreams...
(All quotations are taken from the original manuscript; the analysis draws on publicly available interviews and secondary criticism.) From 2020 to 2022, platforms like TikTok, YouTube, and itch
The Dream Lab. Leah had seen the door at the end of the east wing. Reinforced steel, a retinal scanner, and a faint blue light seeping from the crack beneath. Orderlies in full biohazard gear went in and out at odd hours, pushing gurneys. Sometimes, the gurneys came back empty. A cold gel on her wrists