Days have turned into weeks and weeks have blended together. The ceaseless howling of the wind during the day robs you of sleep, and the walking at night is filled with waking dreams and hallucinations.
In your lucid moments, you have noticed a pattern. The dreams while you not-sleep during the day are often of the old man in the Bladesea, or Jon and a happy life together, with encouragement and support, often asking searching questions you do not want to answer. Night time, the visions are of death, blood and horror, filled with accusations. Things you could have done differently.
Somewhere, you lost your datapad and your pack. You don't know how it happened, you just looked down in the middle of the night and your hand was empty. At the time, you though Jon had taken it to tease you. A day later, it didn't matter anymore. You just kept on walking.
As Khaliss suggested, you have occasionally found supplies on your road - dried meat, sturdy vegetables. Even once, about half a litre of water. You drank that immediately, as if you were dehydrated. Something told you you needed to do that, though you cannot remember. Those supplies ran out a week ago, and every day there is less and less water in the catch pockets of the suit.
The days and nights start to flow together, so that only the type of visions and hallucinations you are having at the moment give you a sense of night or day. Still, you get up with the dawn and keep walking, though you don't even know where you are going anymore. You no longer remember why you are out here walking. The whole world is a sea of rocks and dunes, and your sole purpose is to walk them.
Then, one night you hear a voice. This one seems different, but you are so tired you ignore it. No visions today. Just rest.
But the voice is insistent. "Wake up! You must wake up!"
