On her way home, a solitary woman picks up a frail flower. Then, she drops her key. Exhausted, the mysterious lady finally enters her home and falls asleep in a deep, comfortable armchair. However, even in her intimate dreams, an intangible dark presence blemishes her afternoon nap; she tries to catch it, but her efforts are in vain. And as the confined environment gradually becomes a maze-like purgatory, bizarre but perfect doppelgangers of her physical self materialise in the house. Before long, an old record player playing a never-ending tune, a telephone, and a sharp serrated bread knife become part of the nightmare. But the blade thirsts for blood, and the woman hungers for a way out. Can the undivided mind/matter entity escape consciousness?
—Nick Riganas