Bring Back My Brain!

From the depths of infinity came a menace so dreadful Clark Dane could not comprehend the danger. Yet his subconscious knew, crying out:
It was a world without a past or future; a shining shadow-world borne of sheer madness, a thousand echoing eternities beyond all space and time.
Now the pulsing radiance grew brighter—so bright it sent pain-tipped needles stabbing through Clark Dane's brain. He writhed under its relentless, throbbing pressure; tried to draw back, to cry out.
But the strange lethargy still clung to him, all-encumbering as a leaden pall. As in a nightmare, he lay prostrate, paralyzed, unable to move or speak.
Numbly, he wondered if he were dead.
Only then the silent laughter rose again—taunting; chilling—and he knew that life still stirred within him.
The face came with the laughter, floating through the swirling radiance as a shadow drifts through fog. Hollow-cheeked, hollow-eyed, hairless as a sand-scoured, tide-washed skull, it hovered before Dane like a living death's-head, closer than ever before.
Where previously had he known this Being-Without-A-Name, Dane wondered? What malicious trick of circumstance had brought the two of them together?
Only those were things somehow beyond his powers of recall at the moment; questions that, strangely, seemed to find no answers within his aching brain.
Shuddering, he squeezed the eyes of his mind tight shut against the spectre.
But the face would not go away. Smirking, sardonic, evil, deep-lined with old sins, it hung motionless now, as if mocking Dane in his torment while it reiterated its eternal theme: I am your master, slave! Bow down! Bow down to your creator! Acknowledge your serfdom here and now!
In spite of himself, Dane cringed.