It's 6.10 in the morning already. Weren't we supposed to arrive in Stockholm at 5.54?

My sore body hurts as I push myself up and slowly drag myself towards the window of the train. The beds in the overnight train from Malmö to Stockholm are a joke, but for someone who has put his body through a two-point-suicide suspension only hours earlier there's very little to laugh about. The only way to sleep in them is on your back, but since that was out of the question, the sides of my body are now almost equally sore.

Outside the window, nothing is moving and all I see is concrete. Apparently we are next to a train platform. After bending down a little bit further I am able to see the Stockholm signs. So we have arrived and no one has bothered to tell us that. The strangers occupying two of the remaining five beds are still sleeping just as they have done throughout the entire night. No neck pains or air pockets in their backs.

At 6.30, while I'm almost packed and ready to leave the train, a voice finally provides evidence that I am not on a ghost train. It is the first voice I hear from anyone working on the train. The grumpy man on the speaker system informs me and my now awakened roommates that he was not supposed work this weekend, but since the train company somehow forgot that this particular journey was supposed to take place, he was called in on his night off to drive a train of sleeping travelers for six hours, hence the lack of communication and also the reason why the train stood still for so long in Malmö. It might be a vehicle designed to follow a railway track, but it still needs someone upfront in the driver's seat.

As I listen to the man I think about how surreal this whole train ride has been with no information, an extra hour at the station in Malmö and the bumpy, fast driving by someone who is working on his night off and also has to make up for the late departure. The surrealism of the night fitted well with the overall experience of my second suspension.

When I first was given the opportunity to suspend, the suspension and everything surrounding it had an almost spiritual atmosphere about it. It was the last warm day of the summer and the outdoors location was truly beautiful. The event took place over a whole weekend with the small group living together, eating together, sleeping together and of course suspending together. Wonderful people living close together, vegetarian food and the fresh air helped making the suspension even more memorable.

This second suspension was almost the complete opposite. It was cold outside and the location this time was an old bus garage which had been turned into some kind of a community center. But it still had that industrial feeling to it. The group this time consisted of some old faces, but several new which dropped in every now and then in accordance with the time table sent out by email earlier. Really getting to know someone here was harder, but it suited me fine. Having just come back from two weeks abroad with a group of students, the opportunity to actually have some time to myself, while the people above me in the time table suspended, was much welcomed. Some hours passed reading comic books and playing the guitar I had brought with me.

While the first suspension offered little opportunity to try some more advanced movement due to the outdoors setting, the second one offered exactly that. The beams we hung from were all very far apart so those of us who wanted to see what it  was like to really swing from hooks attached to our bodies were given that chance.

There were a couple of first-timers, and I could recognize myself in them as I watched them being pulled up. The pain, the nervousness and the worried excitement, which was exchanged for happiness, pride and an excitement anything but worried reminded me of myself hanging from a tree on that warm summer day. But even though this was going to be my second time, I could not help feeling a little nervous and worried. Since all had gone so well the first time, maybe I had set my hopes too high this time. When you feel like there is nothing to worry about, you can always worry about not worrying enough. Are you setting yourself up for disappointment?

I arrived at the community centre at eleven in the morning and my suspension was scheduled for six in the evening, but the day went quickly and all of a sudden the darkness of the late winter day reminded me that it would soon be my turn. I changed into another pair of pants - tartan ones with zippers all over the legs - and carefully placed my guitar so that it would be visible in case I felt like incorporating it into my plans.

Lying on the bench with my back facing upwards along with the smell of disinfectant brought back memories. The feeling of being completely in someone else's hands can be very calming when you trust that person as much as I did. She had placed one of my hooks the first time and the other person was someone I knew though his work in the body modification community. Deep breath. Then another. And the hooks went in. And the tips of them went out again.

It hurt. That must be admitted, but just like last time, the pain was something I could stand and the professionalism of the two people working on me made it all easier.

It turns out there are more things you can do to ease the pain when suspending indoors and having a larger area to move in. As the hooks are tied to the ropes and the ropes are slowly pulled, my stretching skin hurts just as bad as I remember it and I wonder if I will vomit or pass out like I almost did the first time. But I don't and while walking back and forth in order to help accommodate the skin, things do feel a little better than in my memories.

Human contact can be powerful. Just the feeling of hands, or only warm skin for that matter, will give a body in distress a chance to calm down. The woman responsible for my right hook is there for me this time as well. When I almost vomited and passed out last time, her calm voice and her hug helped tremendously. Now she tells me to move back and forth. She seems more confident that all will go well this time. That it will be easier for me. And she is right.

As my feet lift from ground that feeling of nausea comes back, but not as bad this time around. My worries that I might have to be lowered to start over are this time met with the suggestion to swing instead. She tells me that swinging actually helps. So she gives me a little push and as I drift away from her it still hurts, but not as much.

Fascinated by both the fact that the pain becomes quite manageable and my body's ability to actually let me swing from two hooks in my back I move my legs and body to try to swing more and it almost works, but for some reason my body spins instead of swings. Luckily I am among friends and with their help I am soon swinging from side to side and by now I have almost forgotten that I am actually hanging from hooks. This is so much fun.

After swinging for some time, the idea I once felt was a bit silly seems more and more like a good one. The person standing next to me with my camera goes to fetch my guitar.

I have been practicing on playing the guitar for two years and I try to take it with me wherever I travel and whenever I get the chance you will see me with the instrument in my lap, strumming the chords to whatever song I'm trying to play. I love playing it and the opportunity to combine one interest with another is too tempting.

I manage to hang the strap around my neck, not in the way it is supposed to hang, but there are hooks in the way so just letting it hang from my neck will do just fine. Now, will I be able to lift my hands enough to play?

It does hurt a bit, but the left hand manages to grip the neck and the fingers are placed on the frets to play a G major. The right hand strums and the sound from the guitar draws the attention of the others. When I first suspended I was told that I could bring my own mp3 player if there was something special I wanted to listen to while suspending. I remember wanting to listen to the song Heaven of High by Tiamat, but I decided that since we were supposed to be outdoors, I wanted my suspension to be as close to nature as possible. So I never listened to the song. Now I am playing it instead.

To me, my first suspension was a spiritual experience with its nature setting, living together with a group of people and staying off alcohol and only eating organic vegetarian food. And my second one was an industrial one with its indoors setting, people coming in to be suspended and then leaving, spending time on my own while waiting for my turn and having a fast-food chicken pizza, halal but not organic and definitely not vegetarian.

So the fact that the whole thing was ended by an almost industrial-like overnight train ride fitted well into the overall experience of the weekend. A great experience this time as well. Different, but equally great.

At 6.40 in the morning I am standing on the platform at the Stockholm central station. My back hurts, but not as bad as my neck. The guitar on my back pulls my shoulders backwards and makes them hurt a little bit more and the bag in my hands does not really help things either.

The cold, but fresh, morning air helps me awaken a bit more and I walk towards the metro.