I researched quite a bit before buying a sensory deprivation package. I watched videos of first-timers, old-timers, Joe Rogan, Rhett and Link, read endless articles about it, and above all else, figured out how long the tank was.

Before all the videos, my only foray into sensory deprivation tanks was largely skewed toward the science-fiction show Fringe, where the main characters regularly drop psychotropic drugs and use a tank for mind control experiments and planes-walking.

I did not do either of those things.

I booked an appointment, arrived, showered, hopped in the giant 8-foot long tank filled with hundreds of pounds of water and epsom salt, and shut the door behind me.

Where I felt like a sea otter in a dark cave, although extremely less furry.

*This animal analogy came to me earlier this morning. At no point during my session did a sea otter image pop into my head. Also, did you know sea otters have one million hairs per square inch?

So, what happened?

I didn’t see shapes or hear colors. In fact, I didn’t hear anything at all. My ears dipped below the water line.

My mind wouldn’t settle down. All the media and noise in the day-to-day life was just … there. Rattling around the containment unit that’s pitch black. Sight and hearing gone. Three more to go.

You touch nothing, other than the occasional wall bump when trying to get comfortable. The water is set to near body temperature. Something like 94-98 degrees. Another sense down.

Taste? Don’t drink the water, I guess. There’s nothing to taste, let alone anything you’d want to taste. So try not to open your mouth, side from a few deep breaths.

Leaving smell.

It does smell. Like a giant tub filled with epsom salt. That’s really the kicker. If you can withstand the smell of warm water and salt you should eat, you’ll do fine on the senses part of the journey.

I thought about all of this within the first 30-45 seconds.

My appointment lasted an hour.

Afterward, the … host … offered up some advice for future visits — focus on one topic you can spend a lot of time thinking about. Raise your hands over your head for improved bloodflow and relaxation, and try and do some stretching activities.

I picked up on the stretching while prone. I tried, with earnest, to try and get my ankles, elbows and head to reach the bottom, a mere 10 inches beneath me. Tried being the imperative word.

So there I am, a suspended, adrift, rudderless otter for 55 minutes in this mind cave.

Back and forth from this and that, I found myself eventually trying to sleep in what I imagined was the final 30 minutes. I couldn’t. Tried again, failed again. Couldn’t sleep because nothing was tethering me to sleep.

There was no blanket, no quilt or comforter, cool and warm pillow, no ceiling fan or open window. Nothing to signify, other than it being dark, that this was a time for sleep. So, I imagined I was doing somersaults, you know, like otters do.

And it worked. My mind was free to think my body was doing literal somersaults, even though my body was just floating.

What the fuck?

And then it was over.

Just like that.

From interior nonsense to mind-warping somersaults.

Interesting.

After

Once my hour was almost up, some tranquil music would start playing followed by a soft glow entering the tank.

I stepped out and turned on the shower.

And felt taller. Decompressed.

And well rested. As if being in the tank was like sleeping for days, even though it was my main priority I failed to accomplish.

Washing off the epsom salt was a tad jarring. You follow up this sensational relaxation point with the necessity of cleanliness. But it passes and the relaxation returns. You walk out and sit in a nice secluded area sipping tea and forgetting you have a phone, for a little while.

I got home and, sure enough, I was taller.

But this was a new kind of taller. My normal standing-after-a-long-day height is roughly 6-foot-8 1/8. I saw a chiropractor in high school and had trainers in college and they never got me this decompressed. It also blew the doors off that “waking up” taller, where you get that bonus 1/4 inch before it’s depleted by lunch. This float nearly had me at 6-foot-9.

My shoulder tension disappeared as well.

It may return, it may not. I may settle back down to earth in a few days. I may not.

I have two more floats. Let’s see what wonders this sea otter can roll into next.