Opinions on this intro for my creative writing class

[Kerrigan]

My creative writing course professor gave us our first assignment: by the end of the semester, we need to have a solid idea for a novel with no less than 50 written pages. It needs to be a story, but doesn't need to be finished (obviously). We can even make it a short story if we want. Anyways, we're presenting our intros to the class a week from now for our peers to analyze, etc etc. and I was wondering what other people thought of mine so I can know what to expect or change. Criticism welcomed with open arms! Theories on what's going on are also welcomed! LOL (classmates are going to have theorize as well, so why not you? :-)

I was lifelessly afloat in the ebb and flow of a sea of brightness; a sea languidly swishing me about its currents. It felt like warm water and smelled sweet as if garnished with flower petals. But I knew better. Wherever I was, I knew for certain that it was most unnatural. I had no desire to open my eyes. Or perhaps I didn’t have the will?
My thoughts ran circles around me. I could see my conscience on the underside of my eyelids like echoed text, my every thought becoming a visible word, dull and lackluster. Even the word lackluster flickered, darker than the rest. Whatever this place was, it was brighter than any star I’d ever known. Even with my eyes winced tightly shut, I was blinded.
I could feel the current rippling: my body being hoisted only inches higher than I’d been floating a moment ago. The sea of light was churning, of this I was certain.
A great many noises suddenly erupted: my voice being one of them. I was screaming at the top of my lungs, tearing my throat to shreds. In the beginning, I didn’t know why I was screaming. But then it hit: a sudden explosion of pain upon every inch of me.
I wasn’t in the ocean of light anymore. I was slumped upon my knees on a hard surface, back arched, chin jutting upwards to where a sky would have been if I could muster the strength to open my eyes. I could feel my blood curdling roar blasting upwards from my tongue like a storm of fire that burned everything inside of me on its way up and out.
It went on this way for a long time. When I ran out of breath, I would only scream again. But each time, it felt like whatever torment plagued my body, was somewhat lessened.
One final roar at the sky; I felt like I was ripping it open. I could feel the flash of lightning on my eyelids, and when I did, it beat me to the ground like it was a smiting weight. Thunder followed suit, seemingly responding to the fit I had thrown. And then I could feel the gentle thudding of rain on me.
The dramatic change in scenery warranted a look around. But as I took a stab at finally opening my eyes, I learned that they were far too sensitive to be subjected to wherever I was. They burned like they were directed at the sun. All I could make out in the short span of time that they were open was patches of grass and dampened mud. Some sort of field in which I now found myself crawling on my hands and knees, diverting my eyes away from everything as if they belonged to a newborn child.
I gave it a few more attempts, but it wasn’t getting any better. Why couldn’t I see? What ruse was this? To wake tortured, blind, and unaware?